Eternity
by DarkRulerDominica
Summary: Ryou is perplexed as to why his appearance has barely aged ever since coming into possession of the Millennium Ring, and the answer he reveals to this conundrum is truly terrifying. Told entirely by Ryou's point of view.
1. Suspicions

Eternity  
Author: DarkRulerDominica

Hello everyone! Well, here it is - the first chapter of my fanfic, Eternity.

I was inspired to write this story after I had written a poem that supposedly Yami Bakura had penned.  
This story has elements of the Yu-Gi-Oh manga, Anime, and my own imagination. For example, when I first started watching Yu-Gi-Oh about three years ago, I believed Joey Wheeler was a New York transfer student (based on his accent), so in this story, he is.  
I have also given Ryou's sister the name "Higeki", which is Japanese for "tragic" (you'll see why I call her this :( ).  
Oh yeah, I wanted to inform you that in this tale Yami Bakura is referred to as "Yami", and Yugi's yami is "Pharaoh", "Atemu", or "Spirit".  
So, without further ado, I present the first chapter of Eternity. Please read it, love it, and review it!

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh.

**Summary**: _Ryou is perplexed as to why his appearance has barely aged ever since coming into possession of the Millennium Ring, and the answer he reveals to this conundrum is truly terrifying. Told entirely by Ryou's point of view (except for the poem at the beginning, by Yami Bakura_).

Rated M for violence, language, adult themes and some gore.

_Suspicions_

-------

There is an incurable pain inside me  
Consuming me  
Devouring my insides like some filthy parasite  
This pain fills me with mind-clouding rage, which poisons the very blood flowing through my arteries  
Rage that can only be pacified by lashing out at somebody  
And that somebody is my hikari  
My light  
My other half  
Ryou  
Why do I do this? Perhaps it is because he is so much like me, except for the fact that he possesses a lighthearted, unblemished attitude towards everything  
It is that exact attitude that fills me with frenzied jealousy, and makes me wonder: _Why are we so alike, except for our outlooks on life?  
_So I break him down  
Feeling empowered when I torment his body and soul, blackening his heart  
Little by little  
Day after day  
Perhaps my mind is so corrupt that I simply enjoy hearing his excruciating screams as I break his frail body  
Rip his innocent spirit  
Kill his will to thrive  
Or, perhaps it is because he is the only one to whom I can continually do these things. Others are weak and wither rather quickly when subjected to my abuse  
But not the boy  
At the moment the Millennium Ring, the same Ring that had imprisoned my poisoned spirit for the past three-thousand years, was placed, by Ryou, around his own neck, I vowed he would be my hikari for eternity  
And so, becoming my victim - no, symbiont - has empowered him with an ability no other human has: to go on, and on, and on  
Forever  
Before long, he will have no area in his heart that is free from corruption  
Enough that I will not be able to refer to him as my hikari - my light  
Of course, he can never be my yami, for I am that to him  
His darkness  
Hence, I will wait patiently until that day comes – I was able to withstand three-thousand years for freedom, after all  
For you see, darkness has only one purpose:  
To devour the light

-Yami no Bakura

---

Eternity

-Ryou Bakura-

I dedicate this tale to anyone who has ever wished for eternal life

---

"Otanjoubi omedetou, Bakura-kun! Happy Birthday!" my friends cheered in unison.

"Arigatou!" I replied happily, not having been this cheerful in a long while. It was my eighteenth birthday and Yugi, Téa and Tristan had thrown the party at Yugi's grandfather's game shop in downtown Domino. The celebration was something they, including Joey, had planned some time earlier, fearing that if I devised something for my birthday, it would be locking myself in my room.

"C'mon, let's cut the cake!" Tristan sang, ravenously eyeing the vanilla-frosted confection Téa had prepared herself.

"Now wait a second," Téa frowned, retrieving her masterpiece and sheltering it from the fork with which Tristan had armed himself. "This is Bakura's, not yours."

Undaunted, he advanced towards her as she protected the cake as though it was a child. "I don't see his name on it. Give it here!"

She slapped his hand away at the last moment, and then replaced the cake on the card display case that was the makeshift table. "When Bakura decides to slice it, then you can gorge yourself."

Tristan opportunistically looked at me with round, innocent eyes. "Please, man… can we eat now?"

Yugi laughed as he grabbed some metal chairs from behind the main counter. "You'd better say 'yes', Bakura. Tristan might chew off his own foot, otherwise."

I laughed at this prospect, picturing Tristan gnawing his severed appendage in order to satiate his rapacious appetite. I then gazed, once again, at the shop door. "Well, I wanted to at least wait for Joey," I responded to them in Japanese, their native language. "You did say he was coming, right Yugi?"

"That's what he told me," he shrugged. "He's probably trying to find you a nice present, or…or…."

"Or he overslept is more like it," Téa winked.

The tinkling of the door's bell caused me to look as to who had entered. Out of breath, his dirty-blonde hair mussed up, and clutching a shoddily wrapped gift to his chest was the American transfer student, Joey Wheeler. He doubled over, placing his free hand on his knee, trying to gulp air into his lungs. He looked up at us, and when he made eye contact with me, he grinned. "Hey, Bakura," he said in his New York-accented English as he straightened up and strode over to me. "Happy Birthday, man!" he smiled, slapping me heartily on the back. I was about to thank him, when he thrust the gift in my hands and mumbled in my ear, "Don't open this 'til after the party. Ya know, for Téa's sake."

I stared inquiringly at him, my brow contracting with confusion. He merely winked then made his way over to the others to greet them. Glancing down at the box and pondering what the contents were, I somewhat dreaded what I'd find, being as it was from him, the renowned pervert who didn't think anything of distributing pornography to his friends.

"Yeah, sorry 'bout being late," he addressed the others and myself in his shakily acquired Japanese. "I tried wrappin' that damned thing, but I couldn't get the hang of it. Normally, I would've asked Serenity to do it, but of course she's outta town." He threw his hands dramatically in the air. "Perfect timing, sis!" He then caught sight of the cake and a moronic smile stretched his lips. "Hey, cake! My favorite animal!" he chimed, practically drooling on the dessert, from which his face was mere centimeters.

"Don't even think about it," Tristan pouted, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Téa won't let us near it until Bakura deems it's ready to sacrifice."

She scowled. "It's plain rude, that's all."

Placing Joey's package with the other gifts, I said, "Well, now that Joey's here, we can eat, I suppose."

That invitation was all Joey needed to hear. "Aw right!" he yelled, grabbing the designated knife and angling its blade through the soft cake.

"Don't be so savage!" Téa cried as she witnessed the swift destruction of her three hours labor.

---

After everyone received a slice – Tristan and Joey's the largest, naturally – we sat down in the chairs Yugi had arranged earlier, our plates perched upon our laps. "This cake looks superb, Téa," I said, admiring the frosted layers.

"Thank you," she replied, blushing slightly.

"After we eat, I'll open the presents," I added, skewering a piece of the dessert on my fork.

Just as I was about to sample the morsel, Joey, sitting at my right, leaned over to me. "Remember, don't open mine while…" he momentarily shot his eyes over at Téa, "…_she's_ here." He whispered this, afraid that if he mentioned her name, regardless that he spoke English now, she'd know she was the topic of conversation.

"What did you get me?" I hissed, paranoid that Yugi, Tristan and Téa were able to decipher some of the words.

Once again, he grinned. "Let's just say that the Love Doctor, Joey Wheeler, is gonna give you a few helpful tips on how to impress the ladies!" He elbowed me mischievously.

My well-founded fears were confirmed as to what category of contents his package contained. I smiled balefully at him, and that's when I noticed it for the first time; and now, when I look back upon that day with retrospect, I wish I never had. "Joey, what happened to your face?" I remarked, gawking at the small adhesive strip on his chin.

"My face?" he asked absentmindedly through a globby mouthful of food. Right away, his hazel eyes dawned with realization. "Oh, my face…yeah. I cut it today shaving," he responded in Japanese so the others could understand. "Yep, stupid razor was dull and before I knew it I gouged out a chunk of my flesh. But," he took another chomp of cake and swallowed it after one bite, "I'll live."

"Oh," I replied awkwardly, beginning to eat my slice.

"That's right – ya never got facial hair," he mused.

"No, I never did," I said, feeling like an oddment for never having that body process occur for me.

Tristan got up to claim another slice of cake, and had gulped most of it before he took his seat once more. "Don't worry, Bakura. There are plenty of guys who never get facial hair. It's cool."

"Yeah, like me," Yugi attested brightly as he ran his finger around his plate, scraping up the clinging frosting. "I waited and waited, but I never developed any growth."

"Tristan and Yug are right," Joey interjected. "It's okay if ya never get a beard. Besides, ya ain't missin' much. It's a hassle to hafta shave day after day," he then pointed fiercely at his wound, "and risk this!"

"I know, I know," I sighed, unable to look him in the eye. "Don't get me wrong - I never had any intention of growing a beard and mustache. It's…well, it would've been nice to have the _option_ to do so. You know…" I dropped my voice, as well as my head, "…be normal."

Instantly, the tension permeated the room like a noxious serum gas. Without lifting my eyes, I could tell what the others were feeling: pure, smothering guilt…

…guilt that they didn't have to live with the burden of wearing the Millennium Ring.

"Hey, come on, Bakura," Téa said reassuringly. "You're a normal guy," she added, her voice faltering on the sentence's adjective.

"Hmm," I despondently answered, appreciative of her outright lie.

"Hey, look at it this way: you may not have ever gotten facial hair, but you've obviously been blessed with a youthful appearance," Tristan interposed. "I mean, you still look like you did when we met you."

"Exactly," Joey agreed wholly, resting his arm over my shoulder. "Ya look really young, Bakura. But, uh…" he leered, "…not as young as Yug here – he looks like a kid!"

Yugi, preoccupied with picking at the nearly finished cake upon the counter, rounded on Joey. "I resent that!" he retorted playfully.

We all laughed and spent the next couple of hours enjoying the remainder of the party. After we ate, I opened the presents, save Joey's, as his elbow repeatedly found its way into my ribs as a friendly reminder to wait until later.

---

Eventually, the party ended. Balancing my gifts under my arms, Yugi, Tristan, Téa, Joey and I stepped outside the game shop so Yugi could see us off. "This was really a great party. Thanks, guys," I said, displaying a tight smile.

"No, thank you for coming, Bakura," Yugi replied sincerely before casting his violet eyes downward. "We know things are tough in your life, and involving yourself in social activities might be pressuring…."

"Yeah, man," Tristan concurred as he grabbed my shoulder. "You don't get out enough. We're real proud of what you did today," he added, nodding curtly.

"Oh, come off it, guys," I said, gently nudging his arm off my back. "With the way you're carrying on it sounds as though I just achieved something astronomical. Besides…I like to spend time away from others," I lied.

Joey shrugged. "Sure. Whateva, man." He slid his sleeve back to peruse his watch. "Oh shit! I gotta get home. Smell ya guys later!" he called as he scuttled away.

Téa slid her rinsed cake platter in her purse. "Yeah, I should head home, too." She hesitated, and then looked up at me. "Bakura, I-"

A piercing whistle sliced through the warm air, interrupting her. We all stared in the direction from whence it originated. The one responsible, it turned out, was Joey. "Hey! Don't forget ta open my present when ya get home!" He then tore in the opposite direction. "Happy Birthday!"

I briefly waved at his retreating back before turning my attention to Téa. "I'm sorry…what were you saying?"

She squeezed her purse skittishly. "You're a great guy, Bakura, and I don't want you to believe otherwise." She averted her gaze. "Don't listen to any of _his_ insults."

I smiled graciously, yet knew I couldn't keep that promise. "Thank you, Téa."

We bade each other farewell then branched our separate ways. The party had, in a sense, made us all one, but now with the conclusion of the festivities we regained our individuality… and mine terrified me to death. I looked back at the Kame game shop just in time to witness Yugi closing the glass door behind him. It would only be a matter of time before his grandfather would be sweeping our cake crumbs from the store. Yugi didn't realize how fortunate he was. I regarded the inviting shop that also served as the Mutou's home, and I coveted to have that sort of stability in my life.

A tepid drop of rain splashed on the tip of my nose. I cast my eyes aloft and discovered that great, churning nimbuses saturated the late-spring sky. Not explicitly giddy about the prospect of getting drenched, I focused my attention forward and set off for the one-mile trip.

As I journeyed beneath the indecisive sky, I mulled over my earlier conversation with Joey and how I'd answered him: _"It's... well, it would have been nice to have the option to do so. You know… be normal." _

Normal. Something that I longed to be as far back as my memory would allow. And why wouldn't I have? From very early on my life was a quagmire of isolation and loneliness. I had few, if any, friends whilst growing up in England, possibly on account of my…odd appearance. Neither my parents nor my pediatricians could ever figure out why, but my natural hair color was a stark, platinum white. And no, I wasn't an albino, lacking pigment in my flesh or eyes. On the contrary, my eyeshade was the deepest ebony, and the contrasting look of my near-black irises to my ghostly hair probably gave me the appearance of a poltergeist to my potential playmates and, in turn, horrified them.

In addition to my image, I felt like an outcast around other peers because whereas they had close relationships with their fathers, I did not, due to the fact that he was absent for most of the time my age spanned four to nine. To add insult to injury, my mum and dad divorced a week after my tenth birthday, thus commencing my younger sister, Higeki, and mine's five-year bandying between Europe and Asia for visitation rights. It was such a drudgery having to spend time with my father for my summer holiday then whisked back to Mum for the remainder of the year that I wished it would just stop.

If there were ever a need of a poster-child for the popular saying "be careful what you wish for," I would obtain the position, easy peasy, for my request did come to fruition… in a horrible, ironic way. I had been in the middle of a particularly dull quiz during school when the headmaster entered my classroom, a sallow tinge to his face as he motioned for the professor to join him in the hallway. All eyes were on our teacher as he made his way out into the corridor, the headmaster hastily pulling the door partially closed after himself.

Whatever the news being conveyed, it must have been urgent, for I could detect the rapid, sibilant whispers of the headmaster, infrequently punctuated by the professor's voice, his tone oddly monotonous. I'd never been able to handle stress well, even if it concerned others. I began sharpening my pencil in consternation, oblivious to the curled shavings fluttering to the floor. I then turned my attention to the written quiz, when a few of the mumbled words met my ears: "accident" and "they didn't make it."

I paused, slowly straightening, my pencil poised on the exam paper. Something was making me uneasy as the conversing carried on.

Suddenly, another decipherable word: "mother."

I found myself drawing shallow, rasping breaths. He couldn't have been speaking about _my_ mother, I thought. After all, there were twenty students in the class, so the odds were in my favor….

Then, the condemning word: "Ryou."

My pencil lead snapped from the unnoticed pressure I'd been applying. Before I could collect my thoughts, the professor poked his head in the room. I prayed silently, begging that he wouldn't catch my eye, but he did. Instantly, my breath ceased as he asked me to step into the hall. But I didn't want to, and I stupidly held the belief that if I remained seated no bad news would befall me. However, I summoned up my courage and, weakly rising from my desk, exited the classroom.

It was as I had dreaded: my mother and - to my horror - Higeki, had been hit by a speeding car that morning. From firsthand accounts, they had crossed the intersection, when, for reasons unbeknownst, Higeki ran back into the oncoming traffic. Mum attempted to retrieve her, but too late; they were both struck. As I stood in that hallway, my numb brain reeling from this nightmarish news, I wasn't braced for what he relayed next: Mum and Higeki…were dead; my sister dying instantly, and Mum only holding on long enough to be loaded into the ambulance.

I recall gazing at the headmaster for an infinite second before the world spun around me and I fainted, my head making painful contact with a locker in the process.

When I awoke, my professor had me propped up against the wall, an ice pack balancing on my throbbing cranium. For a brief, wonderful moment, I entertained the possibility that the agonizing word of the auto accident was in fact a hallucination I'd suffered before I'd passed out. However, the sympathetic expression on his face told me otherwise.

A funeral was held on an appropriately drizzly day a fortnight later. My father had sobbed bitterly as the service ensued, clutching a framed picture of Higeki and Mum to his heart. I had cried torrentially since that soul-shattering day, the insurmountable torment ripping me apart like a rabid carnivore, and at the funeral, my sore tear ducts could produce no more.

I then went to Japan, as Dad now had legal custody of me. Even though school was in session, he felt it compulsory to allow me a couple more months mourning until I had to attend and subject myself to undue stress of being thrust into a school with a totally different language and customs I'd rarely been exposed to. In that time I willed myself to study the Japanese language, as this land was now my home. I then began term in the high school of the city of Domino in December.

And that was when he announced his existence to me.

I guess I should impart from the beginning. You see, six months prior Dad had given me an ancient Egyptian artifact for my fifteenth birthday. It was a golden pendant ring, which he had unearthed during the Nas'tun'a'nuk Dig in Egypt that spring. He divulged to me that as he had brushed away the sand and debris off it for the first time he knew I was destined to wear it. When I slipped the leather cord around my neck I experienced an energizing sensation, like I had been reunited with a piece of my soul that I'd previously lacked, and thereafter I considered the pendant a good luck charm. That is, until my mum and sister were killed.

Anyhow, I made acquaintances with Yugi during my first day at Domino high school. He had accepted me with opened arms, and that was quite a relief, as the only students interacting with me up until that point were flocks of giggling girls, or bullies dead-set on smashing my face. In a token of deference, Yugi disclosed that he, too, possessed an Egyptian relic, what he referred to as the "Millennium Puzzle", which he proudly showed to me.

Upon seeing the artifact, however, my heart felt as though someone had clenched it fiercely, and for the remainder of that day I was drained physically. Of course, it was nothing compared to how I'd feel that night. Dad was out of town on a business trip, again, and I was alone in our house, penning a letter to my mother and sister. Others might have seen this endeavor as dodgy, even disturbing, but I had found this task therapeutic in aiding my grieving, and when I had private time I wrote countless missives that I secretly stowed in my drawer. Suddenly, out of nowhere, I heard a faint whispering…in my head. I hadn't a clue what was happening, and I panicked as the voice, a young man's, intensified. I froze when he claimed that his spirit had been imprisoned within my ring for three-thousand years, and that I was to be his hikari, his "light", for eternity. This was the heart-warming introduction of the pernicious spirit that would bring untold misery into my life. He claimed he had no reminiscence of his name; I never gave him a proper one, however. Initially, I referred to him as "Koe" seeing as I believed the extent of his presence was merely a voice. But as soon as I learnt that he was taking over my body to fulfill his demented whims, I started addressing his as "Yami" – my dark side.

And so began the litany of instances where I blacked out whenever he had an inkling to puppeteer my body for villainous purposes, and these purposes mainly boiled down to the fact that he so earnestly aimed to possess Yugi's Millennium Item, and he needed a physical body to do so. Yugi's Puzzle also contained an ancient soul, but luckily, this was a benevolent pharaoh named Atemu. Yugi, the pharaoh, Téa, Tristan and Joey were aware of my quandary, as they'd encountered numerous, nearly fatal, confrontations with the evil being. Aside from them, hardly anybody else had knowledge of Yami's existence. Not even my dad knew, and I never had the inclination to tell him, on account of wanting to keep my sanity in a good light in his eyes. But shrouding the truth from my father had grown increasingly difficult that year, for Yami, impatient of his incompetence at obtaining the Puzzle, had begun taking out his aggressions by abusing me. I seriously did my best at concealing my bruises by wearing long-sleeved shirts in my father's presence. However, I wondered if his obliviousness to my languishing was due to my craftiness or because of his near lack of involvement in my life….

I'd been so caught up in my thoughts during my trek, and I was genuinely surprised to discover that I'd covered the distance to my home. Dad's car sat in the driveway, indicating one of the rare occasions he was present at the house.

Transferring the packages under one arm, I retrieved my key with my free hand and unlocked the door. "I'm home," I called out as I swung the entryway open…

…and was greeted by a looming face on the other side. Startled, I dropped the gifts; it took a second for my brain to interpret that the visage I'd just witnessed was that of an Egyptian mummy coffin.

"Is that you, Ryou?" my father's voice called from the kitchen.

"Yeah," I answered as I stooped to retrieve the items, my ears stinging with embarrassment from my overreaction to the artifact.

"Well, mind your step when you come inside. I had to bring some of my work home."

I entered, and a laugh of disbelief escaped my mouth at the sight before me. The place no longer looked like my home, but rather resembled a storeroom for ancient Egyptian treasures. Numerous intricately painted coffins, including the poor substitute for a doorman, were balanced upright, whilst others lay strewn in areas large enough to accommodate them. Pots, dishes and jewelry sat precariously on the arms of the couch, and glazed ushabti figures of varying disintegration were crammed upon the bookshelves.

"Criminy, Dad! I didn't realize you had to bring the museum's collection home as part of your job," I laughed.

His only response to my paltry attempt at humor, however, was fervent cursing, in which he mentioned something about, "Damned cataloging."

I quietly removed my shoes, not the least bit surprised by his abstract reply. I had learnt early in my childhood that he only gave his undivided attention to things that were either mummified or of Egyptian origin. And this personality flaw had accrued ten fold, due to the fact that since November the year before he had been immersed in an absolutely grueling - not to mention exorbitantly expensive - project known as the Teknusabet dig. His feverish obsession was splendid for a world-class archaeologist such as he, but made for a negligent father.

Squeezing past the splintered cases and through the kitchen entry, I encountered him crouched on the tile floor, vehemently writing notations in his research log. He kept pushing his unwashed hair from his face as he counted under his breath. "Watch out for the scarabs," he suddenly said without looking up.

He uttered the warning just before I stepped down. I caught myself hack-handedly as I discovered a minute pile of the dried beetles lying in the area I had intended to rest my foot. "Thanks," I mumbled, locating a clear patch of floor where I wouldn't be treading on a relic.

He consoled his papers with bloodshot eyes. "So, did you have a good time at Yugi's?"

"Oh…yeah," I replied, mildly stunned that he'd remember something as irrelevant as my friend's name.

"Good," he answered, furiously scribbling notes yet again.

I shifted uncomfortably and stared at the iridescent scarabs. I knew my father was in the middle of a tedious task, but I had to ask him. "Dad-"

"Hand me that canopic jar, will you?" he interrupted, pointing at the counter as he labeled a collection of hook-shaped, pharaonic hekas.

I sulked, but obediently got the indicated jar, which had a carving of the god Qebsennuef's falcon head as the stopper. Instead of handing it to him, however, I leaned back against the wall, absentmindedly tracing the embossed hieroglyphs with my finger. "Dad…why didn't I ever get facial growth?"

Fate taunted me at that precise moment as his cell phone rang, which he answered promptly. "Moshi moshi. Oh…yes, Yoichi…I have the paperwork right here," he said, spreading the thick stack of sheets on the floor. "You'd better make yourself comfortable - these pages are going to take some time to read through," he joked.

Grudgingly, I tossed the jar into his awaiting hands and stormed out of the kitchen. I couldn't believe how detached he was from me, I thought as I retrieved my presents I'd left on the foyer side table. I hardly ever asked anything of him, but when I simply needed him to exude paternal concern, he shunned me as though I was a pyorrhea. As I turned, I caught sight of the coffin near the door, its blank smile seeming to mock me. "What are you so happy about?" I groused before making my way up to my room.

Switching on my lamp, I sighed deeply and deposited the gifts onto my bed. I then slumped down beside them and clasped my hands with fret. My ire rose as Dad's conversation drifted under my closed door, so I diverted my attention to something enjoyable: my gifts from the party. Téa had purchased me a cashmere sweater; Tristan got me a notebook PC; Yugi - after begging his grandfather mercilessly for it - had managed to snag me the mega-rare Duel Monsters card that I had asked for, Masked Beast Des Guardius. And Joey….

I remembered I hadn't opened his yet. I picked up the package, turning it end over end. The loose paper, ineffectual at handling this abuse, fell away. In my hands lay a videotape, cryptically labeled, _Happy Birthday Bakura_. Uncertainty crept through me as I regarded the black piece of plastic in my pale hands. I crossed the room to my video player, inserted the tape and turned on the television, my stomach burbling allthewhile. "Please, don't let this tape be what I think it is," I groaned as I pressed _play_.

The snowy picture was replaced by the image of Joey's face filling the entire screen. "Oh, hey it's on!" he said, backing up marginally. "Uh, Mr. Bakura, I made this tape for your son, sooo…if you're watchin' this now, just turn it off. Okay?" He hummed for a few seconds, and then peered impishly in the lens. "Hey, Bakura. Happy eighteenth, man!" He leaned conspiratorially closer. "Uh, don't tell the others I said this, but I guarantee this will be the best gift ya get today, 'cause the information on this tape will help ya loads later in life." He stepped back from the camera, and my suspicions were confirmed: what now lay in the frame was not only Joey, but a girl I'd never seen before…sitting on his bed! He proudly displayed her. "Bakura, this is my friend, Kanojo."

She tilted her head coyly and waved. "Happy Birthday, Bakura."

My jaw dropped. I couldn't believe he'd made a recording like this! And the worst part was that I was horrifyingly mesmerized by it.

"Now, I know you're not really all that experienced with the ladies. I mean, you're still a virgin, right?"

I let out a cry of shock as hot embarrassment spread up my neck. Why did he reveal that in front of the girl?

"I knew nothin' my first time. That's why," an expression of clear determination befell him, "I'm gonna give you some pointers I learned over the years. Ya know why? 'Cause I'm your friend!"

"Yeah, really nice friend," I grumbled, my eyes unable to move and my finger refusing to push the _stop_ button.

"Righty, Kanojo and me are gonna start," he stated matter-of-factly, making his way towards the bed and his co-instructor. "First, I'm gonna show ya a trick that'll make any dame melt like putty in your hands. I'll try commentating along the way, but please forgive me if I don't follow through." He gave me the thumbs up before he bellowed, "Banzai!" And with that, he leapt upon the bed and the pair engaged in very audible and ferocious snogging.

My mind cleared and I hastily stopped the tape just as Joey unzipped his pants to accommodate his awakening stalk. "Bloody hell, Joey!" I cursed as I ejected the tape, damn near traumatized. I had a good mind to tell him off for excusing that smut as a considerate gesture of a friend. _Does he really expect me to watch this?_, I surmised, staring at it vilely as though it was poisoned. _No, it's one thing if it's a stranger on a recording like this – not an acquaintance you see day in and day out._

"Your friend Joey certainly has an odd notion of birthday offerings."

My heart jumped to my throat as I registered the cold, familiar voice. I spun back wildly and found him reclining on my bed. "Y-Yami," I stammered.

The spirit vaguely nodded his head in acknowledgment as he retrieved the Des Guardius from beside him on the comforter. "Excellent. I've needed this monster for some time now," he said as he examined it approvingly. He then reached towards my nightstand and grabbed my deck of Duel Monsters cards, which we shared. He removed the top card, Dark Necrofear, and smirked regrettably. "Sorry Love, but you're no longer my favorite," he said airily, relegating it to the bottom and filling the empty niche with the Des Guardius.

It unnerved me how identical he and I were physically. As of late, he had adopted the hair-brained concept that I was his re-incarnation. What rubbish – I wasn't even like him.

I shrunk back as he pushed himself off the mattress and sauntered my way. "I can't believe it… my hikari is eighteen. You know," he said, a reminiscent look in his inky eyes, "it was so long ago, but I remember when I turned eighteen… that was the first time I tasted human flesh."

I remained silent, knowing him all-too-well. He was always eager to find any excuse to beat me to a bloody pulp, and I knew at that moment if I mentioned the wrong thing it would trigger his mordacious temper.

He came to a halt less than a meter from me, beaming. "This is for you, Aibou," he said as he fished an object out of his pocket and placed it in my palm. I warily cast my eyes down and saw that the weighty item was a menacing gold dagger, identical to the one he owned, which he occasionally attacked me with. "It's my dagger's partner, but I've no use for it." He pointed to the gleaming edge. "I even carved your name into the blade. Aren't I thoughtful?"

Indeed, my name was roughly hewn on the yellow metal. I kept my eyes locked on the weapon - not insomuch as it enthralled me, but because every electrified instinct in my body told me not to make eye contact with my dark. I sensed him boring holes through me, waiting for a response of any type. Feeling that I might crack from pressure, I allowed my eyes to creep upward. "I…I don't like knives," I replied breathlessly.

Yami's face fell upon hearing this, and just as I honestly thought I'd hurt his feelings, his hand lashed out and violently grasped my collarbone. A blinding pain caused my legs to nearly give way as he steadily wedged his thumb under my clavicle. Bringing his livid face towards mine, he snarled, "Well, that's a proper shame you don't fancy my gift, Ryou!" He gave me a vicious jarring as he said my name, and I expected my bone to snap clean off.

"Yami stop, please!" I begged, desperately clawing at his fist as I collapsed from white-hot torture.

"What do you say?" he forced through gritted teeth. His nails began systematically cutting through each layer of my flesh.

The agony drowned my mind and I thought I'd pass out. "I'm sorry!"

He hung over me, relentless. "What…do…you…say?" he reiterated.

He demandingly wrenched the frail bone, and my color drained. "I'm sorry! I love the dagger!" I gasped, praying it was the correct answer. I squeezed my eyes shut, anticipating the sickening _snap_ of the bone.

His grip lingered momentarily before he released me and laughed. I scooted backwards and flattened my back against the wall, whimpering, my shoulder throbbing and raw.

"There, now was that all that difficult to say?" he lightishly asked, reaching down to seize the knife I'd dropped during his display of wanton cruelty. "You must consider my feelings, Hikari. You're always so complaisant to your friends, but when I decide to present you a gift, you insult me." He advanced towards me and, once more, set the gold knife on my trembling palm. I inhaled sharply as he grabbed a fistful of my hair. "I'm trying to assist you with your manners, you uncivil mingebag."

I feebly nodded, just to placate him.

He chuckled and returned to my bed. Then, as if the preceding forty-five seconds never transpired, he said, "I'm not sure if you're aware of it, but the collection of goods your father has downstairs is very handsome, indeed." He reached into his back pocket and displayed an usekh broad collar necklace, encrusted with lapis, malachite and carnelian. "I helped myself to this beauty during your chat with him in the kitchen." He pored over it, fiddling with the beads. "I believe I stole this when I was alive," he mused, fastening it around his neck.

I dare didn't object to his thievery of my father's work, and instead opted to miserably close my eyes. During that time, I sensed the Ring burning warmly against my chest; when I scanned my room, Yami was gone. I brought my knees to my face and wept softly. _Why is he this way to me?_ I thought as I wiped the tears from my smooth cheeks. As I did so, I became aware of the dagger and begrudgingly thrust it in my pocket.

I gingerly found my balance when the stabbing in my shoulder receded slightly. I went over to my nightstand and picked up my card deck in attempts to ease my mind. As I returned the Dark Necrofear to its proper place, I paused, intently examining the image of Des Guardius. The picture's glaring connotation of bondage and necrophilia struck an ironic chord in me: I was similar to the bound woman – imprisoned by a savage being of whom I couldn't escape. And if he continued battering me, it would only be a matter of time before I'd be dead like her.

A soft rapping came from my door. "Ryou, are you in here?" Dad turned the knob and entered. "Yoichi's cell phone lost signal, and –" he stopped. "Have you been crying?"

I rubbed my puffy eyes. "It's… nothing."

"Oh, all right. Anyway, Yoichi's cell phone lost signal so I'm free to talk. What were you meaning to tell me in the kitchen?"

Relief flooded me and I promptly told him my concernment.

"Well, you might not be old enough. Remember, everyone matures at different ages," he offered conclusively when I had finished.

"But I'm eighteen!" I said exasperatedly as I folded my new sweater. "I feel like a freak around guys my age, like Tristan and Joey. At least if I was as tall as they were I wouldn't be as self-conscious…." I hesitated, reflecting on what I'd just pointed out. "Come to think about it, I don't think I've grown over the last few years."

He laughed tiredly. "I highly doubt that, Ryou. I'm sure you've grown at least a few centimeters." He leaned against my dresser, the accursed video resting by his elbow. My eyes grew wide upon seeing this. Not detecting my agitation, he said, "Come on… let's go down to the kitchen so I can measure your height." He beckoned me, and I followed.

The kitchen wall had penciled marks of Higeki and mine's heights that Dad had recorded the previous summers. He'd never bothered to erase hers, thus giving that section of the wall a morbid touch. I stood straight as he retrieved a pencil from a cluttered drawer. "Now, how much have you grown since last time?" he mumbled as he stared beyond my head. At that moment, a perplexed expression befell him.

"What?" I demanded, making my back as straight as possible.

He furrowed his brow and scratched the lead into the wall. I twisted around…

…and discovered that he'd traced over the former entry: when I had been fifteen, the last time Dad had measured the progression of my height. "That's odd," he said quietly.

My stomach churned with ratified dread. "So it _is_ true. I haven't gotten taller…."

He studied the mark upon the wall intently. "Just calm down," he rejoined, his lack of conviction thinly veiled. He re-measured me then added, "Tell you what: I'll make an appointment with a doctor and we'll get this sorted out."

I rubbed my injured shoulder and nodded in affirmation. A foreboding chill poisoned the air in the house. What was wrong with me? In a daze, I turned to leave, when Dad spoke. "Ryou?"

"Yes?"

He hesitated. "Happy birthday."

I considered his words and cracked a weak smile. "Thanks."

-------------------------------

Well, what do you think so far? I'll try to get the next chapter up in the next couple of weeks. I really appreciate the feedback:)


	2. Confirmation

Hello again! First off, I wanted to thank you all for the reviews you gave me for the first chapter of Eternity; they're wonderful!

All right, here is the second chapter.

In case you're wondering, I _did_ say that Ryou's birthday is in the spring in the first chapter. I know... some websites say that it's September 2, but I decided to make it June 15 so his astrological sign is Gemini, the twins (representing Yami Bakura and himself ;) ).

See if you can find the subtleties throughout this chapter.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh. 

_Confirmation_

-------

I experienced my roughest sleep in years that night, and when I awoke the next morning, I was already drowsy. Upon my arrival in the kitchen, Dad informed me that he had obtained a doctor appointment for me later that afternoon. As he had already begun jotting measurements of the mummy coffins, I decided that I could slip away from home unmissed. For my sanity, I needed to kill time with something that would empower me to forget the night before.

---

"Sayonara, Kaiba," I heard Yugi say as I opened the Kame game shop entry. Seto Kaiba, Domino's youngest and only billionaire, bustled past me, briefcase firmly in hand.

"Kon'nichi wa, Kaiba-sama," I greeted.

He halted in his tracks and peered over his shoulder in his typical, sunny nature. "What's so good about it?!" he gnashed, his azure eyes flashing. He looked me up and down acrimoniously before he stomped out and slammed the door, the force he exerted to do so virtually shattering the glass panes.

"Err… what's with him?" I asked skeptically as I made my way towards Yugi, the remnants of the noise resounding through the store.

"Kaiba? Oh, he dropped by and purchased a whole box of those just-released Duel Monsters cards," Yugi professed as he locked a glass case.

"Then why's he so miffed?"

"Oh…that!" he laughed. "Well, he's been acting extra sulky ever since the pharaoh and I defeated him at the Battle City Finals last year." He brushed off his hands and stepped out from behind the counter. "So, what's going on, Bakura?"

I fidgeted, apprehensive about relaying the truth. "I just…wanted to get away from home for a while."

"Yeah, I know what you mean - being by yourself can be really boring," he sympathized, resting his hands behind his head.

Not bothering to enlighten him that, in fact, my father had returned home, I dismally gazed at him. "No, it's not that…" and without another word, I pulled open my shirt collar.

Yugi's skin grew ashen when he espied the bruised, crescent-shaped cuts furbishing my clavicle. I winced as he pressed his hand to his mouth. "Did he do this to you?" his whisper drifted from between his fingers.

I nodded. "Just last night. He gave me a dagger as a present, but when I told him how I felt about knives he became infuriated." I languidly massaged my brow. "I don't think the bone's broken, though."

At that moment, his Millennium Puzzle blazed, and Pharaoh Atemu materialized before us. As Yami resembled me, the spirit of the Puzzle was analogous in appearance to Yugi, though the former was more regal. He rested his deep-purple eyes on me and condolingly said, "The spirit of the Ring has no right to maltreat you like this, Bakura."

His observation caused me to all but break down. "I wish he knew that, too," I said in a wavering voice.

The front door's tinkling bell abolished the calming silence, and Joey and Tristan's raucous arrival assured that the peace would not return. They both were excessively flustered. "Man, Kaiba's limo nearly ran us down just now," Tristan panted.

"I'm telling ya, Tristan, I saw Kaiba spot us, and then he told his ape chauffeur something. Next thing ya know, the car's charging for us! That dickface," Joey scowled. He then took note of Yugi, the pharaoh and I, and his mood lightened… expressly upon spying me. "Oh, Bakura!" he sang in a singsong voice as he speedily threaded a path my way.

My stomach fluttered; I had a hunch pertaining to why he desired to speak with me.

"Speaking of dicks…." Ushering me out of earshot of the other three, he queried, "So, uh, what'd ya think of the video?"

I felt funny about looking this man, whom had specially recorded a skin flick in my honor with no reservations, in the eye. "Oh, it was very, um… informative." Yeah, I guess that was the word I was casting for.

"Yeah? Aw, it wasn't that good of a lesson - I forgot about the camera. Oh, oh, hey! How 'bout that part when Kanojo did that thing with the cream? Man, I bet you got some good hand action there, didn't ya?"

I goggled at him. He had utterly no decorum – I couldn't believe he asked something so personal!

He shrugged at my stupefied reply. "Yeah, I don't blame ya for being all tongue tied – I was stunned when she did it, too!"

I could only hazard a guess as to what she did with cream. I became increasingly relieved that I hadn't watched it – I didn't think I could witness my acquaintance's deviant sex and continue life unscarred emotionally.

"But ya really think it was good, Bakura?"

I nodded assuredly, trusting my face masked the lie. "Absolutely. Like you said, it was the best gift I received." I then punched him playfully in the arm. "Good show, Joey!"

Whilst he basked in the rays of his lecherous glory, I hastily addressed Tristan. "Did you guys come here to buy some Duel Monsters cards?"

"Joey did, but not me. I never really got into the game," he shrugged indifferently. "I'm just hanging out with him."

"Hey, for your information Tristan, I was able to afford Serenity's eye operation because of 'the game'," Joey asserted boastfully. "And my celebrity has attracted the eye of quite a pool of babes!"

"Huh… maybe I _should_ study up more on Duel Monsters, then," Tristan reconsidered, inspecting a box of the cards.

Joey lasciviously cackled in response as he stepped to the main display case and slapped a wad of ¥2000 on the glass top. "Here, Yug. I wanna get some of those just-released cards they've been advertising." His fist trembled vigorously. "Oh man! With those new monsters, I'll be unbeatable!"

Yugi stared sheepishly at the money and flushed. "Err… sorry Joey, but Kaiba just cleaned out the entire lot. We won't get another shipment for a week."

I watched as Joey's entire face dropped, including his jaw. "What?! Why that…." He flew to the door and thunderously glared in the direction Kaiba's limo had departed. "Kaiba, you pompous meathead! Next time leave some cards for the rest of us non-CEOs!"

Tristan, meanwhile, had bent over a case, diligently studying the contents. "Hey Joey… here's something you may like."

"Eh?" He took a gander over Tristan's shoulder and smirked when he discovered that the said item was the syrupy Shining Friendship dueling card. "Yeah, right," he snickered, shoving away Tristan, who had begun to hoot with laughter. "I wouldn't be caught dead with that winged puffball." Crestfallen, he pocketed his money and sighed. "Crap, I wanted those cards. Oh well." He looked up at Yugi, the pharaoh and I inquisitively. "Me and Tristan were gonna go to the Domino Arcade anyways. You three wanna join us?"

"Well, I'm not all that favorable of those electronic games, but it should be enjoyable, nevertheless," Atemu consented.

"Sure! That sounds great!" Yugi piped brightly as he glanced at me. "How 'bout it, Bakura?"

My heart sank as I remembered my previous engagement. "Sorry, I-I can't. I've got an appointment with a physician in a little while."

Yugi's smile faded as he recalled what I had confided with him earlier. "Are you going because of your arm?"

"His arm?!" Joey and Tristan asked simultaneously.

"No, I'm going for something else, actually."

Yugi's brow knit with concern.

"Really, it's nothing," I guardedly said, not quite certain if I was convincing him or myself of that. Anxiously, I checked my watch, which read 11:15 am. "As a matter of fact I should best be going now." Avoiding their eyes, I rushed to the door. "Sayonara." And without another word I exited the shop, leaving Yugi, the spirit of the Puzzle, Joey and Tristan thoroughly confused.

---

An hour later, Dad and I arrived at the sterile setting of the Domino medical center. I checked in, and within a short while, I was escorted back to the physician's examination room and given a hospital gown to wear.

I sat in the office with Dad, agitatedly awaiting the arrival of the doctor. The cold vinyl of the examination table stuck to the bottom of my thighs, and the over-powering reek of rubbing alcohol sickened me. I stared fixedly at the door, anticipating the handle to turn any moment, and each second it didn't felt like forever. _Calm down, Ryou_, I thought to myself. _The physician is going to say you're growing at a slow rate… that's all.  
_  
The door opened abruptly and the doctor entered. "Kon'nichi wa… my name is Dr. Isha Naikai," she said with a professional, lacquered smile.

"Douzo yoroshiku," I mumbled, inclining my head.

"My, your hair color is striking – I've never seen anything quite like it before," she commented, her eyes diverted from my face.

"Um… thanks," I answered awkwardly.

"So… your name is Ryou Bakura," she muttered as she consulted my charts, "and you're concerned because you haven't grown much since you were fifteen?"

"He hasn't grown at all," Dad refuted, abandoning his magazine. "Last night I measured his height; it hasn't increased in three years."

Dr. Naikai proceeded to check my blood pressure. "Mm-hmm. Can you tell me more?"

"Well, I never got facial hair, either," I said as she studied my elevated readings.

Quietly, she scrawled a few illegible notes on her clipboard, and then removed the cuff from my arm. "Well, I've seen cases where the patient is afflicted by a variety of hormonal disorders that can stunt growth and such… but, I'm sure that's not the case with you and you're still growing." She began to feel the glands in my throat methodically, when she paused. "Oh dear," she mumbled, tugging the neck of my gown aside. "How did you get that?" She had discovered the bruised mess on my shoulder.

The errant butterflies in my stomach metamorphosed into a swarm of bees, and I spit out a truly erroneous answer. "I… I got into a scrap about a week ago." Thank goodness for quick fabricating.

"You got in a fight?" Dad frowned disapprovingly as he observed my wound.

The doctor probed my injury lightly, causing a smoldering discomfort to bloom across my chest. "This appears recent; if it was twenty-four hours old, I'd be surprised."

My mind fumbled over a dozen plausible replies in a rush. "Well, I didn't want to tell you Dad, but yesterday when I was walking back home from Yugi's a couple of thugs from school ambushed me." I gazed at him, hoping I was convincing enough. "Sorry."

His brow furrowed, but he said no more. 

At that moment, Dr. Naikai lifted the strain constricting the office by crossing the room and opening a metal drawer. "As for your medical situation, Ryou-kun, I feel it prudent to have a few tests ordered for you."

I certainly didn't like the sound of that to say the least. "What kind of tests?"

"Some general blood work and x-rays." She returned carrying a syringe and an elastic band. "If you do have any abnormalities with your endocrine system, they'll show in the findings."

---

The examination lasted longer than I had foreseen, and I was truly grateful when Dr. Naikai signaled the end by informing my father and I that she would notify us of my test results by the end of the week. 

Dad's demeanor was brusque as he and I crossed the car park to the car, and I had a sneaking suspicion it was because of something I'd done. "You all right, Dad?"

The question triggered him to round on me. "Why didn't you tell me about your shoulder? I am your father, after all. And what are you doing getting into fights?"

I felt a twinge of annoyance due to his cynicism, but I composedly answered, "Like I said, I didn't want you to worry about me."

He stopped in his tracks. "You didn't want me to worry?" he argued the toss, "Damnit, Ryou, you're my son. I'm supposed to have concern for your well being!"

_So why don't you begin?_ I thought, and I angrily thrust my hands in my pockets and stalked forward.

Dad cursed under his breath and he jogged to catch up. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean for it to come off that way." Sighing, he forlornly examined his keys. "Is that why you had been crying last night? Because of the attack?"

I licked my parched lips. "Yeah." How uncomplicated it would have been if mere hoodlums were honestly the aggressors….

He suddenly appeared troubled with himself, and the reason became evident by what he uttered next: "Ryou, this is very important: did your friends do this to you?"

That had done it. "What?!" I cried, standing my ground. "You're having a laugh, right?"

"No, I'm not 'having a laugh'. I just want to make certain," he retorted as he unlocked the car. "Remember, that Wheeler boy had quite a reputation at the school-"

"Well, you know what? I'm telling you neither he nor my friends assailed me… and my word should be reputable enough!" I entered the car and plopped down on the passenger seat. "Dad, I'm wiped out. Can we just go home now?"

---

The end of the week came and went without as much as a word from Dr. Naikai. Why had she not communicated with me? My fertile imagination spawned a thousand reasons as to why she had failed to call, and these possibilities, each more macabre than the last, hinged on an illness or condition I tangibly might have had.

On the tenth day of waiting, I had effectually given up on her. Locking myself in my room, I browsed medical sites on my newly acquired notebook, ambitious to unclose my malady. I'd been so focused on the horrors of both gonadotropin and growth hormone deficiencies that I didn't bother to answer the ringing phone. My glazed eyes roved over the flood of never-ending pages and links explaining endocrine disorders in graphic detail. Crikey, I never realized so many problems could arise in the human body….

"Ryou!" Dad hollered urgently from the bottom of the stairs, practically giving me a heart attack.

I unlocked the door and poked my head out. "What?"

"That was Dr. Naikai," he expressed hurriedly, grabbing his car keys. "She said she wants us to come to her office immediately."

A terrible prickling sensation washed down my spine. "Why? What did she say was wro-"

"She didn't say! Hurry up!"

My brain deaden as I slowly shut my door. If the findings hadn't been serious, Dr. Naikai could have easily expounded them to my father over the telephone. Instead, she wished to speak to us in private. 

Immediately.

I desperately fought the hysterics threatening to overwhelm me, and I powered down the notebook, which brightly displayed a photograph of an atrophied pituitary before the screen turned black.

---

Dad and I sat in the doctor's private office, and I felt as though I was awaiting my death sentence. I distractedly drummed my fingers on the mahogany desk before me, dreading the imminent arrival of pseudo-executor Naikai. 

A knock on the door caused me to break out in a cold sweat, and I closed my eyes as she entered. "I'm glad you came on such short notice," she said concisely as she seated herself. Placing a sheaf of papers before her, she presented me a pallid smile. "I must say, my colleagues and I have been kept very busy regarding your results, Ryou-kun." She slid a printout from the top of the stack and allowed me a perusal of it. "The blood work returned showing normal levels of luteinizing hormone, follicle-stimulating hormone and growth hormone for someone your age, and normally, this would allude that you are at your full height, likewise having hair development on your face. However," she placed a different report in my hands, "the x-rays - markedly of your ankles and wrists - connote that your bones haven't reached their full lengths. Furthermore, you have no facial growth to speak of."

The ax had dropped. "What are you saying?" I whispered as I mutedly handed her the summaries.

She neatly straightened the pile then interlaced her fingers. "Hypothetically, it indicates that at age fifteen you were in the process of growing when, for reasons unknown, the hormone levels necessary for growth and facial hair production dropped." She wet her finger and removed a sheet for her own inspection. "Now, the issue with the lack of hair development may be as simple as that your body, like some males, does not carry that trait. But the data relating to the growth hormones is troubling."

Dad snatched the papers I'd reviewed and pored over them as if to find a loophole in her theory. His eyes darted over the notes, and after a minute of gut-wrenching silence, he said, "Maybe he _has_ reached his adult height, which, regrettably, is not on the tall side. The stabilized hormone levels substantiate that."

"That is what I believed at first, Bakura-san." She held out her hand disapprovingly, and Dad surrendered the sheets. "Ryou's height is currently one-hundred and seventy centimeters, but the physical condition of the physeal - or growth plates - on his bones denote that he should be around one-hundred eighty one." She looked up at me and added, "In addition to my co-workers, I consulted five other doctors throughout Japan, and they were as bewildered as I was with this."

My mouth was parched. "So what happens now?" I asked thickly, trying to keep from hyperventilating.

"Well," she began, "there is an endocrinologist named Dr. Phillip Hutchinson, who specializes in hormone pathology. However, his practice is in London."

My stomach tightened when she mentioned his location. No, not there.

Dad shifted in his seat. "London? That's quite the distance…."

"Yes, I agree. Regardless, because of Dr. Hutchinson's reputation within the medical community, I faxed Ryou's files over, and he said he'd be _very_ interested in meeting with him." She leaned forward, adding more drama to the atmosphere. "Please keep in mind: he is a highly venerated expert. Whatever is ailing your son, Bakura-san, chances are he will positively diagnose it. Distance should not be a concern when a person's health is in question," she concluded soberly.

He sagged back in his chair, clearly vacillating on the prospect of traveling to England. I knew what was fuelling his hesitation: his commitment to the Teknusabet research and the need to complete it. Nevertheless, his parental guilt endured. "Very well. What's his contact information?"

Whatever she told him, I can't say, for I had been staring blankly at the seemingly harmless papers that had condemned me.

---

"London?!" Yugi, Tristan, Joey and Téa cried simultaneously.

"Yeah," I grumbled, dispiritedly sprinkling salt on my chips.

Eleven days had lapsed since Dr. Naikai gave me my grim diagnosis, and now, the day before I was to leave for England, I sat with my friends in the Burger World restaurant and related this news for the first time.

"Wait a sec'… you're telling me that the doctor couldn't find anything wrong with ya, but she's sending ya to Hutchinson anyways?" Joey asked, liberally pouring pepper sauce over his food. 

I nodded. "Yes, that's correct. Yet, she said it was what was lacking in the reports that worried her, or something to that extent."

He took an avaricious bite of the saturated hamburger. "That's the biggest load of dog crap I've heard in my life. The broad sounds like a grade-A quack!" His colorful choice of words triggered the patrons in our immediate area to shoot him irksome glances.

"Well, I give her credence," I countered, and I proceeded to sip my cola.

Téa appeared to be on the verge of tears as she hugged her waist. "Oh, Bakura, I hope Dr. Hutchinson makes a discovery quickly." An air of regret crossed her features, and she truly surprised us when she started to weep. "I didn't mean to say that - I meant I hope he finds that there's nothing wrong with you early on!" She then dissolved to tears and bawled into her paper napkin.

"It's okay, Téa," Tristan said soothingly as he stroked her hair.

Yugi pushed aside his half-eaten meal and gazed ruefully at me. "Gosh, I didn't figure your situation was this dire, Bakura. Um…" he dropped his voice, "…do you know how long you're going to stay there? In England, I mean."

I stared at my burger apathetically, considering this. "I suppose until Dr. Hutchinson gives me an answer," was the only definitive reply I could give, yet it was horribly nebulous.

Tristan, prevailing at calming Téa, said, "The bright side regarding all this is that you'll be traveling back to your home country. You're happy about that, right?"

"Actually, no," I mumbled.

Joey choked on his soda due to the surprising answer. "No?!" he coughed boisterously. "But ya haven't been there in three years! Don't ya miss it?"

I sighed and divulged the reason for my reluctance. "You must understand… when my mother and sister died, it was the darkest time in my life." I lowered my eyes to my knees, unable to bear the pressure from their ogling. "Afterwards, when I left the United Kingdom to reside with Dad, I never wished to return there. The memories were too traumatic, and I just desired to start anew." I was flippant about disclosing the additional reason, but it was eating away at me. "Also… I've a bad feeling about going."

The silence at our table became deathlike, and it was Yugi who finally upset the hush. "What do you mean, 'a bad feeling'?" His eyes flitted on my Ring, and he inconspicuously pointed at it. "Because of… that?"

I smiled lamentably at him. "You needn't act all secretive, Yugi. I know he's been listening to this entire conversation from his soul room." I went through the perfunctory motions of eating a chip, but my appetite had long since withered away. "I'm not quite certain, but I feel something terrible is going to transpire. Soon."

The others regarded me with such alarm it was as though I had the plague. I grew so restless from the four sets of eyes burning into me that I spat out, "Stop looking at me that way!"

Téa's face wrested with pity. "How do you expect us to react, Bakura?" she airlessly whispered.

"I don't know!" I exclaimed hysterically, tears brimming on my stinging eyes. "Tell me I'll be all right and I'm simply over-paranoid! Tell me Dr. Hutchinson will discern that Dr. Naikai read my x-rays incorrectly and I'm just not that tall!" I completely broke into all-out, terrified sobbing. "Just give me some words of encouragement! Please!"

Yugi consolingly wrapped his arms around my quivering form. I tightly clutched his back and allowed my anguish to soak down his shoulder. "I'm so scared, Yugi," I blubbed.

I felt the others' hands rub my arm reassuringly, and their touch mitigated the fears that had consumed me. As I quietly grieved, a thought trickled into my mind, and even though it was repellent, it just seemed appropriate to utter at that moment. I lifted my heavy head from Yugi's now-drenched jacket and wiped my face on my sleeve. "Guys, promise me something: if I die, will you come to my funeral?"

My request caused them to whiten like ghosts. "Don't say that!" Téa shrieked as she practically flew into hysteria once more. Her cobalt irises burned with grief against her bloodshot whites, and I felt truly foolish for saying such a capricious thing.

I startled when Joey slammed his palms on the table's surface and towered over me like an insane vulture. "Don't ya be sayin' shit like that!" he clamored, clearly shaken. "Otherwise, I'm gonna come over there and pound some sense into that noggin of yours!"

I reddened abashedly. "I'm sorry. That was a stupid thing for me to say."

"Ya got that right," he growled, taking his seat once again. "Don't even worry, Bakura. You're gonna come back to Japan and everything's gonna be fine. Understand?"

I tried to swallow the lump in my throat and smiled. "Yes." I took a final drink from my cola, and softly added, "Well, I need to get home so I can begin packing. Early flight, you know." I rose to leave, and Joey, Téa, Tristan and Yugi solemnly followed suit. A choppy breath escaped me as I surveyed the four people I had come to grow so close to ever since my first day at Domino high school. "A-arigatou gozaimasu," I said kindly.

"Dou itashimashite," they responded to my gratitude. Unable to hold back any longer, we all joined in a group embrace, becoming a single, loving entity. Everything else vanished from around us; even the noise level in the restaurant seemed to dissipate. Yet, despite the assured feeling I experienced as we hugged, I secretly felt it would be the last time we would.

--- 

I dawdled returning home, taking full advantage of the precious hours remaining until I undertook the embarkment of my inexact destiny. An observer, no doubt, would suggest that I instead spend the time with my friends, as it could very well be my last opportunity to do so. But I had no desire in surrounding myself with others, and instead found my own company pacifying.

The sight of a shipping van parked in our driveway was the last thing I believed I'd find upon coming up the footpath. About half a dozen workers lumbered through the opened entry, wheeling out massive wooden crates from within the house. Anxious, I increased my pace to a jog, hoping Dad was inside so I could be informed as to exactly what was happening.

"Err…Dad?" I called out as I swung my leg over a box haphazardly left in the foyer. The place was complete bedlam: workers were busily wrapping and crating the Teknusabet collection that had invaded the house twenty-two days earlier. Executing some fancy footwork, I narrowly missed a protruding armful of wooden boards a packer carried. Hopefully, the mayhem was an indication that Dad had at long last accomplished cataloguing the seven-month long nightmare.

"Oh, hello Ryou," he suddenly replied, descending the staircase.

I mounted the first step to avoid the entourage of laborers. "I take it this pandemonium means that you've completed the Teknusabet records?" I asked, grappling to stave off the excitement from my tone.

"How I wish," he admitted as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, I'm having it sent to the flat. I figure that since I'm so near completion, I'll just finish it in London, and then submit the records to the museum."

My expression dissolved, and it became excessively laborious for my staggered mind to reply. "Wha- _the_ flat? We're not going to stay _there_, are we?"

He seemed at a loss from my unrest. "Well, certainly. Where else did you think we'd reside?"

I was about to suggest a hotel, when he caught sight of a worker clearly not performing to expectations. "Wait! Those jewelry pieces need to be wrapped separately," he bemoaned as he rushed past me. Knowledgeable that I needed to begin packing my own items, I continued up the stairs, when he called my name.

"What?" I asked.

He opened his mouth, and the words finally came after a delay. "A very expensive usekh necklace has gone missing from the collection." At that moment he eyed me with a staid expression. "Have you…seen it?"

No matter how subtle he believed himself to be, I saw through him clearly: he was alluding that I had lifted it. This put me off, and I had an impulse to inform him that it was the spirit of the Ring _he_ had brought home for me who was the culprit. However, I wasn't feeling that mutinous, so I meagerly shook my head "no".

Sadly, I was an amateur in the art of lying at the time, and he affirmed this with a disheartened look. "Very well, I'll just continue searching for it." He turned to supervise the workers, when he said, "You need to pack, Ryou."

Not giving the notion of Dad's supposition that I was a klepto a second thought, I plodded up the stairs, thoroughly gutted by the news of where we would be rooming. Why were we going to stay there, of all places? The flat was the apartment he and Mum had owned when they were married, and it had served as my sister and mine's childhood home. Even after the divorce, Higeki, Mum and I continued residing there. After their deaths, though, Dad refused to sell the property, somewhat due to sentimental purposes, but largely because it served as his lodging whenever he visited London on business. Mind you, his studies of Egypt had given him close associations with the British Museum, and he frequented the United Kingdom quite often - that was how he had met Mum originally.

Entering my room, I retrieved my luggage from the closet and flung it on the bed. Returning to London would be difficult enough… I couldn't go back to the flat; it would be too poignant for me. I seized a bundle of shirts from my dresser, and as I turned back, my blood drained when I discovered Yami standing in dangerous proximity to my face. I vaguely experienced a pang of irritation as I caught glimpse of the grafted usekh collar decorating his neck.

He crossed his arms impudently. "That was an inspiring conversation you indulged in with those insipid acquaintances, Vessel."

_So, you were eavesdropping,_ I surmised as I slid past him.

Regrettably, it slipped my mind that he and I shared a mind-link, which allowed him to hear my thoughts as though I had spoken them aloud, and he punished me for my irreverence by roughly slamming me against the wall.

My head bashed the surface with tooth-rattling force, white flashes exploding in my vision. I'm positive the impact was heard downstairs, yet dismissed as the current crating ruckus.

The tomb thief grabbed a fistful of my shirt and jerked me towards his maniacal face. "Have my beatings not impacted you that I am your master and permitted to do whatever I damn well desire?! If I want to fucking eavesdrop I will, you prat!" he seethed. "You make me ill," and he unceremoniously dropped me to the floor.

I remained in a heap as raw grief burned my face. How I yearned to stand up against him, but I knew that would be suicide. Instead, I dutifully commenced picking up the pile of shirts of which he'd caused me to lose hold. As I did, I was very aware that my dark had not budged from his position, and the ever-present sight of his legs riled me. Risking a chance, I looked up and found him peering at the garments I had managed to collect.

"So… you do wish to travel to your native land then, Hikari?" he asked, rubbing the back of his head. 

I made sure I had stood, so as to not be in such a vulnerable position lest he chose to lash at me again. "Yes," I answered timidly, all too aware of the angry lump forming on my skull. "I need to know what's going on with my body and allegedly Dr. Hutchinson's an expert in endocrinology."

I shuffled past him carefully and deposited the load into the case, when he stretched leisurely. "Alas, the excursion will be in vain. You're not sick, Ryou."

I paused mid-stoop as I retrieved another batch of garments. "What?" I hoarsely whispered, convinced I'd heard him incorrectly.

"I needn't repeat myself. You know what I said."

Normally I wouldn't trust him. After all, not only had he deceived me innumerable times in the past, but he had learnt to be a well-versed liar three-thousand years earlier, so I had to take it for what it was worth. Perhaps the blow to my head diminished my rationality but for reasons beyond me at the time, I took his word entirely. "Are you serious, Yami?"

"Of course I am," he stated tiresomely. "I inhabit your body quite often and I'd be able to detect if you had any abnormalities."

I was completely nonplussed by this. "So… the bits in my test findings that had worried Dr. Naikai… are normal?"

He regarded me coolly, and then his lips contorted into a smile that curdled my blood. "I did not say that…Aibou." He faded into golden luminescence before disbanding completely.

The fact that he had dispersed did not fetter me from staring at the area he'd been a heartbeat formerly. I now had more questions than I had during the three weeks since my initial appointment with Dr. Naikai.

Even to this very day, I curse myself for being so gullible at failing to catch his covertly cast hint. If I had, maybe, just maybe, things would have turned out differently for me.

-------------------------------

Well, you've reached the end of chapter two. Did you catch Yami's covertly cast hint? If not, by the end of the tale you will ;).  
Once again, please review. I'll try to get the next chapter up soon! Thanks :D !!!


	3. Revisitation

Once again, hello! I wanted to thank you so much for the kind reviews!  
I'm now posting the third chapter of Eternity! This is a long chapter... twenty pages. 8O  
Almost everything herein foreshadows what will happen later on in the tale. Be sure to look at every detail… every little, seemingly insignificant thing - by the end of the entire story all of the clues that I've dropped that at first might have been overlooked will be obvious.  
From this point on, the story will be very dark.

Also, whenever there are italicized sentences flanked by slashes ( _/here's and example,/_ ) it Ryou's and Yami's mental communication through the mind-link.

If you're hungry while you're reading this, I suggest you try some Sunridge Farms Raspberry Licorice Hearts or Ribon Soft Hokkaido (a Japanese cream candy), some of my staple food items while I've been penning this tale.

I also wanted to say that even though I've seen images of Ryou's father, I imagine him resembling Japanese actor Hiroyuki Sanada (Ringu and The Last Samurai.).

All right, on with the third chapter! Please read and review when you're done. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh.

_Re-visitation_

-------

I can tell you, waking at 5:00 am to begin a trans-continental excursion is not at all pleasurable. I scarcely got any substantial sleep, due to both my angst and the tumult of the artifact crating that had endured well past 2:00 am.

I trudged to the washroom, squinting as I flicked on the dazzling light. When my vision adjusted I turned on the shower and, as always, removed the Millennium Ring from around my neck and draped it on the door handle.

For the duration of my showering, I reflected on what Yami had stated thirteen hours before: _"You're not sick, Ryou."  
_  
"How can he say something like that?" I grumbled aloud as I rinsed the foamy suds from my hair. Dr. Naikai and her associates said my readouts were atypical. I'd wanted him to elucidate, but as soon as he recognized that he'd acquired my interest, he refused to clarify. I cursed under my breath. Why did he insist on being so damned mysterious?

Stepping from the tub, I wrapped a towel around my waist and walked through the murky hallway to my bedroom. A sliver of steel-grey along the horizon subtly illuminated my room as I proceeded to dress in the outfit I'd laid out the night before when I had culminated my task of packing.

I opened my window and admired the melodious warbling of the birds as they encouraged the sun to cast its glow on the land. Breathing deeply of the crisp air, I wondered if Yugi, Joey, Tristan or Téa were awake, keeping thoughts of me in their hearts. Well, not so much Joey, as I had a hunch that he probably wouldn't rise until later that afternoon.

Something had troubled me ever since I'd vacated the shower. I was missing something; what was it? "The Ring... of course," I concluded. I returned to the washroom and found it, still hanging idly from the knob. Out of sheer habit, I reached to reclaim it, when I paused. What was I thinking, passing on an opportunity such as this? It might have been a chance for me to leave the Ring and Yami behind. If he were currently asleep in the object, he'd be unaware of my exploits and by the time he found out I was absent it would be too late to locate me. Perspiration beaded on my forehead. If the spirit established what I was considering, he'd be outraged….

"We have to get to the N'EX station, Ryou! Let's go!" my father yelled from downstairs.

The Ring's eye glinted in the harsh light as though it had knowledge of my devious plot. Was Yami in his soul room within in my body, or was he currently in the Item? If it were the former, my plan wouldn't prosper….

"Ryou!" Dad shouted again.

Taking an enormous chance that I hoped I wouldn't live to regret, I turned off the light and deserted the cursed Egyptian item that I had persistently worn for three protracted years.

---

Dad sped like a demon to the Omiya train station south of Domino to assure we'd catch the appointed shuttle to Narita International Airport. All throughout the harrowing drive, he insisted on employing one hand to hold his cell phone as he made last-minute calls, his thumb and index finger to grasp the train passes, and his remaining digits to steer the wheel. Needless to say, by the time we reached the depot at Omiya my poor knuckles were tingling and pale.

Even with our early arrival, our designated Narita Express train was packed-out; an unambiguous sign that the summer travel season was well underway. How pleasant it would have been if I, too, had been departing for a holiday as opposed to a meeting that dealt with my fate.

From the moment we left home, I had been distressed from lack of contact with the Ring. That aspect had always confounded me; in spite of the Item being an unshakable scourge, I felt whole when it lay against my heart. But as our train glided towards Tokyo my unease melted away and I began comprehending what my new-found freedom could afford me. I wasn't exactly clear as to what events would unfold connected with my health, but without the tyrannical grip of Yami squeezing me it might be more tolerable to bear.

As I chewed over the concept of sovereignty, I sensed something pricking my chest from inside my shirt. Involuntarily, my hand reached to abet my skin… and I felt it.

The warm, metal rim.

It couldn't be….

Aware of what my fingers were wrapped on, I disquietly extricated the irritant beneath my garment – the irritant of which I had assumed hung in the darkened washroom thirty miles away: the Millennium Ring.

Well, that clarified my gradual alleviation on the train; it had tracked me yet again, leaving no doubt that the spirit had been present within my body earlier.  
I withered in the vinyl seat as I blankly regarded the solid-gold pendant and understood that my whimsical thoughts of liberation had just taken flight on the wind.

_/That wasn't very kind of you to take a crack at abandoning me, host,/_ Yami's chiding voice slated through our mind-link. _/I suppose it was wise foresight on my part to retire to my soul room last night. Regardless, you're going to have to be a smidgen more resourceful than that to lose me./  
_  
Dad, catching sight of my actions, lovingly took hold of his gift to me from three years past. "I'm proud of you for taking such exceptional care of the Nas'tun'a'nuk Ring, Ryou." He fawned over the relic like a beaming parent, completely uninformed to its virulent secret. "I knew in my heart that you would treasure it when I came across it those years ago."

I wanted to tell him. How I longed to open his blinded eyes as to what this thing really was, and how I spent every waking hour thirsting it would leave my life everlastingly. However, as soon as I began taking a shine to the prospect, Yami gave me proper incentive that changed my outlook. _/Are you truly such a clot that you'd unveil your knowledge of the Ring?/_ he gnarled in my mind. _/Your father will take it you're raving and have you carted away to a mental institution before you can prove your story./ _He paused, and then unctuously added, _/But… if you really have a burning urge to apprise him, please do./  
_  
I wasn't certain how I achieved it but I managed to block the rash of mental profanities I languished to fire at him. Indifferent that my father still had the Ring in his hands, I broodingly stuffed it down my shirt, paying no heed to the wariness that evolved on his face.

---

I never figured out why we had left the house so early that day. Granted, because of our flight's international status we had to check in a few hours ahead of time, but Dad had been a tad gung-ho with his time management, and as the sixth hour of us waiting in Terminal One for the assigned jet slugged by, I was bored rigid. I had purchased a manga in one of the airport's gift shops to occupy myself, but managed to complete it early on. Dad in the meantime had his nose buried in a frightfully mundane book focusing on debates amongst archaeologists discussing the pros and cons of cultural property laws.

As much as I detested it, I tried in vain to initiate a mental conversation with my dark, but the hardhead had shut off his end of the mind-link back on the N'EX, leaving me with my unrest as a companion. I was completely isolated, which easily invited my worriment regarding my body to inundate my consciousness yet again. I couldn't allow my vexation to arse me, though; I was scheduled to visit Phillip Hutchinson the following afternoon. Surely, he could educate me as to exactly what was transpiring with my endocrine system.

The overhead announcement that British Airways flight 208 to London Heathrow was boarding validated the prospect of undergoing the outing. I couldn't turn back now. Hefting my carry-on over my recovered shoulder, I somberly approached the ticket gate and presented my pass.

The stale air of the cabin assailed my nasal cavity as I crossed the threshold and entered the aircraft. _At least Dad had had his wits about him to book us first class,_ I mused, yet found the notion that my living quarters for the next nine hours would be the over-sized leather chair before me depressing.

After slipping my baggage into the overhead bin, I nestled into my seat and closed my eyes. I wanted this entire ordeal with London to transpire as swiftly and uneventfully as possible. I graciously accepted a woolen blanket that the flight attendants were distributing, and I pulled it up to my chin. Not for the first time that day, I coerced myself to give Joey's statement sheer credence: _"You're gonna come back to Japan and everything's gonna be fine."_ If he hadn't avowed that piece of encouragement, my precious speck of hope never would have come to be.

I cracked an eye when I heard Dad settling himself in the window seat to my left, book in hand. Straight away, he plunged himself in a chapter explaining that since 1921 it was illegal for archaeologists to claim antiquities they discover as their own. I found this highly ironic, for that is precisely how he'd acquired the Ring. I wish he'd had a copy of the volume to grind some scruples into him during the Nas'tun'a'nuk excavation, for there would be a chance the pendant would have ended up in a spot-lit museum display case in Cairo as oppose to round my neck.

After forty-five minutes of taxiing on the runway, the jet departed the Japanese soil; as it did so, something in my soul shriveled. The BA craft now held me in a symbolic limbo, offering a link between my concrete past and imprecise eventuality.

I set my focus on my immediate future, mentally counting the hours until I faced the physician: thirty.

I reclined my seat in a shallow effort to allay my nerves, when I hesitated. Why was I insistent that something calamitous would occur during the visit to England? The day before, I had dropped that presentiment to my friends without anything substantial to authenticate it except a silly hunch. Yet, even now, my intuition alerted me that not all would be well.

---

Within one hour, I had devoured every magazine article in the seat pocket before me. The collection primarily comprised of humdrum business journals that had been a ball ache to read. Draining my beverage, I unbuckled my safety belt and, after stretching my legs, proceeded towards the lavatory.

As I strode down the aisle, the flush-inducing sensation of self-consciousness overcame me as dozens of eyes turned in my direction. _It must be a shock to see a human with niveous hair amongst a sea of prominently dark-haired passengers,_ I deliberated. Still, my stab to absolve their rudeness did little to lessen my embarrassment, and I was grateful when I shut myself in the oasis that was the lavatory.

Unzipping my fly, I yawned, never having grown accustomed to the over-seas expedition I had taken so many times in the past. As I emptied my bladder, I got a once-over of myself in the cramped space's fluorescent-lit mirror. Good Lord, I was a ghastly sight: my sticky, bloodshot eyes, disheveled hair and oily face testified as to why I felt so miserable. I seriously looked forward to curling under my sheets that night and passing out.

"What in the name of Ra is that?" I heard an overly familiar voice demand.

I yelped when I discovered Yami standing behind me, his attention drawn to the ceiling. "For fuck's sake, Yami!" I shouted, shielding myself from his view. "Can't you give me a little privacy?!"

"Oh, come now," he ridiculed, ripping his gaze away from the point overhead. "We're both men here. I've seen you urinate hundreds of times before. It's not like I'm your grandmum."

I stood there, incensed, despite that I knew he was being truthful, whether that he'd used the toilet whilst in control of my body or he'd simply viewed me through my eyes. Nevertheless, I didn't feel comfortable as he watched me.

Losing interest in the conversation, he once more examined the object above his head that had triggered his uninvited appearance. "Vessel, what is that up there?"

I glanced over my shoulder as I flushed the toilet. "That's a smoke detector," I answered, not giving it a second thought.

The ruckus of something heavy slamming upon the vanity caused me to whirl back. Yami had agilely bounded up on the shallow counter, the detector now within his reach. Panic drew on me as I recalled there was a £5,000 fine for tampering with the machine, and at that moment he brushed his finger against one of its minute, silvery sensors. "Don't touch that!" I foolishly blurted.

A muscle twitched under Yami's eye as he sinuously turned his twisted face to regard me. "How dare you defy me, you insignificant waste of human life!" he snarled, following up with a vicious backhanding across my face.

I went reeling back, dazed from the savage impact he'd just bestowed upon me. I caught myself against the wall as sour blood leached into my throbbing mouth, and I hardly had time to collect my bearings as a blaring siren blasted through the area just outside the door. With a sob of despair, I saw that the spirit had brutishly torn the machine from its home, and it presently lay clutched in his sticky fingers. He cocked his head apprehensively, clearly having unforeseen the racket.

And it only got worse. A disturbance beyond the fastened entry swelled to a crescendo in the form of the flight attendants' response to the alarm. They rattled the knob to no avail, and then began rapping upon the surface feverishly. "Whoever's in there come out this instant!"

I raked my fingers through my hair as my heart banged against my ribs.

"Unlock the door, now!"

Yami, skimming the smoke detector, casually stated, "I reckon you should obey them, Ryou. They sound dischuffed."

I turned my reddened eyes upon him beseechingly. "Why'd you damage that? I'm going to be fined!" I moaned croakily.

Unimpressed with his ill-gotten treasure, he tossed it at my feet, wiping his mouth with his hand. "Perhaps you won't be so eager to challenge my authority in the future then," and his body dissolved, leaving me with the adamant commands of entry from the flight attendants.

I was trapped…I had no other choice but to grant them access.

I dolefully unbolted the lock, and my pursuers wasted no time taking advantage of this. In the millisecond that elapsed as they jerked open the door, I discovered that my fly was undone, and they barged in just as I made myself decent, nearly snagging myself in my haste.

The pair of women quickly ascertained the vandalism, their eyes widening in disbelief. "Where's the detector?" asked the lady in front. She found it before me, the mangled wires pointing errantly in all directions. "Explain yourself!" she raged, brushing her frazzled ginger hair from her forehead.

I was dead from the neck up, my fingers maintaining their grasp on my zipper.

She placed her hands on her hips akimbo. "Are you traveling with your parents, young man?"

Young man? Of course - everyone had always stated that I had a youthful countenance. These stewardesses, more than likely, mistook me as under eighteen, so perhaps they'd let me off the hook! "Uh, I-I'm with my father," I stammered, keeping my elbows locked at my waist as I pointed towards the aisle.

Just then, Dad broke free from the clustering of rubberneckers that had convened to see the commotion. "Ryou, are you all right?" He then demanded of the women, "What's going on?"

"I take it you're his father?" the ginger-haired woman asked, stooping to collect the ruined detector. Unexpectedly, the attendant whom I recognized as the first-class helper joined the group and dismantled the braying siren.

"Yes, I am," he replied defensively. His eyes darted between each of us in turn. "What's wrong?"

She straightened, the crippled sensor resting on her manicured palms. "Your son – Ryou, I believe you called him - damaged a lavatory smoke detecting system, going far beyond mere tampering. As you may be aware, our company considers this type of defacement punishable by a £5,000 fine."

His color further drained from his ashy skin as he surveyed the broken unit. "Perhaps it was vandalized prior-"

"That's impossible, sir," the first class attendant rebutted. "All of the equipment on British Airways' jets is state-of-the-art and highly sensitive. If the sensor had in fact been removed earlier, the alarms would have tripped at that time. This, "she indicated the heap in the other's hands, "just transpired."

His jaw slackened as he cast his eyes askance at me. "Ryou, tell me the truth."

"Wha- I didn't even touch it!" I objected exasperatedly. "Why won't any of you give me credit?!"

The trio, continuing to give me the evils, leaned near each other, whispering out of the corners of their mouths. How long could I keep defending my integrity with all these telltale clues pointing directly at me?

Dad meditatively chewed his cheek as he assessed me, when he said in a careworn voice, "I want you to return to your seat. Now."

My mouth opened and closed mutely, but I pliantly slunk back to my chair as he remained with the crew. True, they mistook my age for young, however, that in turn meant that they were authorized to fine Dad. I strained to earwig his conversation, but their voices were drowned by the white noise of the jet engines. That wasn't enough to deter me, though. Wrapping my fingers around the center of the Ring, I focused my energy on attaining an earful of the discussion. Occasionally, the relic amplified exchanges that were not intended for my ears, and this was emphatically bundled within that category.

"No, I'm not going to pay anything when we land! That's preposterous!" Dad's voice echoed in my brain.

"Sir, this debate is moot; he's committed a crime, but owing to his age, you are the responsible party."

"His age?" he queried.

I heard a suspiration. "Because your son is under eighteen, you are accountable for his action." The woman said this very slowly, as though addressing a confused child.

I drew a reedy breath when he failed to answer. "Come on, Dad; don't blow the gaff about my age," I pleaded, twisting round to glimpse over my shoulder at the group. If he informed them that I wasn't a minor, they'd prosecute me. I knew I was being unreasonably selfish making my father take the heat, but what else was I to do?

Sidestepping the issue of how old I was, he lowered his tone, nearly to the point that even with the Ring's power I feared I'd lose the words' meanings. "I realize that you ladies are performing your ordained duties, but I must admit something to you. The…the reason my son and I are taking this voyage to England is because of a medical referral given to him by his physician in Japan." His breathing rattled, but I had no need to peer at him to see the trouble; he had begun to tear up.

I digested the nerve-jangling validity of his words and the emptiness I'd initially experienced owning to Dr. Naikai's deductions reared its ugly head once more.

The redhead exhaled deeply, and when she spoke the spleen her voice had held was buffered with remorse. "He's sick?"

"Yes… but nobody's successfully diagnosed him."

"I had no idea he was ill... and what a pity, he's so young." She glanced at the others for verification before she sighed, "Fair enough - British Airways will not press charges. However, we expect no further infractions from Ryou. Understand?"

"Yes, yes and I will convey this to him, make no mistake," Dad answered, failing at stemming the relief from his tone. "I appreciate this very much."

"I'm sure," our attendant mumbled petulantly as she and the others commenced with the task of placing a sign stating that that lavatory was presently unusable.

Dad plopped in his seat, his flushed face attesting that his blood pressure was dangerously elevated. Bearishly grabbing his book, he removed a ballpoint pen from his pocket.

"Err… Dad?" I began uncertainly.

"I don't want to discuss it," he tersely snipped, scratching notes on the pages.

"You aren't assuming I damaged it, are you?"

He snapped the book shut, the sound reverberating through the cabin like a gunshot. "I don't know what to assume, Ryou! You go into the lavatory, and during that time the sensor is demolished." He clicked the end of the pen compulsively. "I seriously don't wish to imagine you did it, but…."

His silence was as cutting as if he'd screamed the accusatory words point-blank at my face. "Dad, you know I would never do anything illicit."

He circumspectly studied me for a moment, and I took it that he was about to bestow me conviction, when his eyes roved to my mouth. "Is that…blood on your lip?"

I'd spaced that completely. "I accidentally bit my tongue earlier," was all I said.

He kept his attention on my mouth for a short while longer, his face blank, when he grumbled, "You're lucky they mistook your age." He then turned his back to me and continued his chore of scribing.

As soon as he had done this, I felt a thousand pounds lift from my narrow shoulders. Nonetheless, it did not alter the direness at hand: Dad was convinced that I was capable of property defacement based on nothing but circumstantial evidence. Also, I didn't like the way he'd looked at me when I offered that I'd hurt my mouth.

Exhaustion embraced me as I dwelt on these troublesome ponderings and I found it most challenging to keep my thoughts from scattering and melding into one another. I succumbed to the tantalizing sensation, quickly escaping the madness around, and within, me.

---

I was running.

My feet slid and shifted on the ocean of saffron-kissed sand. A stitch had long developed in my side, and my legs protested at carrying me forward, but I pressed myself.

Despite the fact that the woman and girl casually walked before me on a swelling dune, I couldn't catch up to them, and the distance between us widened. I clawed at the air before me in a futile try at seizing them, and I screamed at them to remain. I couldn't lose them a third time.

Taking no notice of me, they reached the crest and continued downward.

In disparity, I scrambled up the hill, my nimble feet defying the sinking surface. When I reached the zenith, I saw that the desert's surface leveled. I wildly turned about; the pair was nowhere on the infinite stretch. Had they been spirits intent on drawing me further into the wasteland, or was my brain surrendering to the affects of dehydration and delirium owing to the blistering heat? "No", I growled, cursing myself for considering such blasphemy; they had been real….

I spotted them on the horizon, their forms prominent against the brumous sky. I made a mad dash towards them, my ankles threatening to cruckle. The woman and child regarded me, awaiting my arrival, but my legs became doddery and I stumbled. I landed spread-eagle and I righted myself, spitting out copious amounts of sand.

Suddenly, my quarry turned and abandoned me.

Whimpering, I crawled on all fours, pleading for them to come back, yet I knew I was only wasting my breath. Tears began streaking my cheeks, of which I fiercely wiped away with my tanned arm, smearing the mixture of the tears, sand and kohl. I waited, grinding my teeth to fight the choking sobs impending to explode from me.

The two never returned.

A hollow scream blasted from my lungs, encompassing the vastness. Wailing uncontrollably, I collapsed, tearing at the ground that lazily slipped through my fingers. Without them, I had nothing to live for…. Wait; a miniscule voice in my mind reminded me that there was one thing that gave me reason to live: my promise to her.

_What promise, though?_ I wondered deliriously.

The atmosphere inexplicably chilled as something ominous infected the area. At once, a poisonous maroon saturated the flaxen-hued sand like blood soaking through cloth. Within seconds, this plague had thoroughly despoiled the pristine landscape.

"You're not sick, Ryou," Yami's voice resonated from seemingly everywhere at once.

I was then in a fire-lit cavern, not the least bit gobstruck by the abrupt change in scenery. Crouched near the measurably ajar entrance, I held a dagger at ready as the voice on the opposite side neared. I was no longer woebegone; I felt alert… feral…. Every muscle in my body ready and tensed, I waited, practically able to taste his hot blood….

---

I opened my eyes and recognized the first-class interior around me. I'd only been dreaming. An ache pressed against my eyebrow, causing me to groan.

Drowsily, I read my watch: 11:30 pm, Tokyo time. The sun, accompanying us the entire trek, burned brightly through the windows, prompting me to adjust my timepiece to the British time of 2:30 pm. I must have been terribly fatigued earlier seeing as I had slept six straight hours. I wiped a mixture of thin saliva and pungent blood from my chin, in turn, absentmindedly drying my hand on my jeans.

As the groggy haze lifted from my brain, the dream remained fresh in my thoughts. Who were those people I'd been pursuing? I suppose it didn't matter really; they'd been figments, pure and simple.

I sighed and rubbed my face. Yami's words must have affected me more than I realized, as they had surfaced in the reverie. It was no surprise that they nettled me so; within that statement was the potential key to my medical conundrum, but knowing the spirit, he'd get sadistic pleasure in hoarding the answer from me. Nevertheless, I had to try. _/Yami, I need to speak with you,/_ I stated mentally. I allowed him a few seconds to respond, but nothing was uttered. I shifted irritably, beginning to get hacked off. _/Come on, Yami; don't def me out,/_ I pressed a tad more aggressively.

Again, no response. No 'Yes; I'm trying to sleep; get stuffed'... nothing.

Unbelievable! Six hours had passed since his thievery nearly cost Dad a month's salary, and the uncompromising gorm still refused to speak to me. That had always been a crippling weakness of his: not being able to let go of the past and move forward. In fact, he was condemned to the Ring in the first place because he'd confronted the pharaoh for slaying his family years before, or so he said. Well, his little cold war wasn't going to dissuade me, I decided, my head falling to my chest as sensation began drifting from my body. I was going to confront him.

---

I found myself in my soul room when I opened my eyes. It was a sprawling chamber bereft of any furnishings, and the walls consisted of porcelain-like blocks of marble. The most distinguishable detail was a crawling, black mold upon the walls, growing in sharply twisted patterns, like a distorted interpretation of an octopus, which longed to engulf the ceiling. When I'd first happened upon the room, which occurred when Yami chucked me in three years before, the mildew was just a scant blemish therein the corners and, try as I might, I was never successful in scraping it away.

I reached the exit and turned the knob. Fearful that I might chance upon the thief, I cracked the door and cautiously spied the inky hallway beyond. "Yami?" I called out in forewarning, unable to bring my voice louder than a whisper.

No answer. No movement.

I slipped through the entry, standing opposite the meticulously carved sandstone slab that served as the door to his soul room. I stared at it, wondering. Without hesitation, I reached my hand out and knocked on the rough vestibule. "Are you in there?"

Still nothing.

"Blow it," I cursed, and I pressed my shoulder against it. I'd gone into his soul room before, and if he was going to act stubborn I'd do it again. Firmly planting my feet on the silty ground, I leaned my weight into the barricade. It groaned in opposition, but proceeded to yield, centimeter by centimeter.

Nearly collapsing from exhaustion, I was satisfied when I noted the progress I'd made and squeezed myself into the cavern behind.

The most accurate way I could describe his dwelling was that of a derelict, Egyptian tomb, completely ravaged by the shadowy fungus that was systematically ensnaring my room. The only light supplied was from a handful of wall torches, their flames dancing wildly, throwing guttering silhouettes upon each surface. Large chunks of sandstone had crumbled from the walls that were decorated with anemic, Egyptian-style artwork, as well as a plethora of hieroglyphs. The ceiling was low and the ever-present decay swirled and overlapped in feathered patterns upon it. In comparison to my room, it was evident that he had imposed his personality upon this space, and it was a frightening symbolization of his mind.

Aside from me, the chamber was devoid of life. "Where are you, Yami?"

My echo was the only answer. The air was dreadfully thick in there and I began to get the creeps. I exited as quickly as possible.

I was once again in the hall that held our chambers. Where the hell was he? In spite the fact that the corridor stretched beyond the immediate area, it concluded in a dead-end, so he couldn't have escaped. Still, he might have been down there, so I headed that way.

The section that held the doors was illuminated by a ghostly aureole, and with each step down the passage a bit of the glow diminished from my sight. However, I continued onward and eventually met the cul-de-sac. Not surprisingly, he was nowhere to be seen. "Great, and now he's probably in control of my body," I fumed, preparing to stomp away….

I stopped, immediately snapping my head back to the stony wall. "The hell?" I hissed, walking back to the surface. There was no mistaking it – I'd just seen an entrance materialize there as I had turned my head. I ran my hands over the chalky wedges, searching, confident of what I had witnessed. Suddenly, an idea dawned on me. If it manifested in the corner of my eye before, perhaps that was the only way to find it. I began shifting my head to the side and, sure enough, the doorway emerged in my peripheral vision. I looked back, and it vanished… no, I could still make it out, but it was faint, camouflaged perfectly amongst the dim, stone blocks.

Never before had I known of this entrance; what could it hold, and why was it protected with such a peculiar security measure? The longer I gazed at it the more enticing it became. Licking my lips, I barely touched the door… and it silently swung open.

The area beyond was cocooned in a shade blacker than night. By now, I had forgotten about Yami. Normally I wouldn't dream of entering a place as ominous as the one before me, but I felt drawn to this room so, nerving myself, I ventured through the ingress.

Instantly, fetid, muggy air smothered my body and dropped heavily into my lungs. I choked in the sweltering atmosphere. The place had a lingering stillness, as though it had been sealed centuries before. The depth of the chamber was indeterminable, as was the ceiling's height, for the velvety darkness constricted the room, almost to the extent that I sensed it pressing against my flesh. Allowing my eyes to adjust to the murk, I prudently stepped forward. Fluid-like cobwebs draped across my face and hair and I quickly pulled the gummy strands free.

My toe hit something solid. In the motey gloom, I saw the obscured shape of a small pedestal. _Now why would something like this be in here?_ I thought. Inquisitively, I ran my hand blindly upon the top, and I was surprised when my fingers brushed against an item. As soon as this transpired, a most remarkable thing happened: the bestead object gradually cast a diffused, charcoal glow.

It was a lotus bloom.

Something buried deep in my soul urged me to pick it up. Without considering, I scooped the flower into my trembling palms and lifted it to my face. It was translucent, monochromatic, faded… a mere whisper of an image. I knew that the lotus had a profound meaning to me, yet I hadn't an inkling why. Almost hypnotically, I touched it to my nose and inhaled the delicate perfume, which generated soothing warmth to wash through me. However, this gave me no clues, and I placed the dewy blossom back where I had found it.

As I delved deeper into the void, I became aware that my feet kept sticking to the floor and occasionally my right eye and cheek stung, having nothing to do with my headache that had developed on the plane. Was it due to this room, I wondered, mopping the sweat off my brow. The musty stillness was so acute that I discovered myself holding my breath.

That is precisely when I heard the airless voice.

Galvanized terror surged through my spine. "Yami? Is that you?" I blurted, horribly dizzy from the screaming panic and reeking heat. "Damnit, this isn't funny!"

But I couldn't perceive my dark's presence.

The voice reiterated itself.

_Oh shit,_ I thought. _Someone else is in here._

The whisper drifted from above me and I tripped, crashing on my backside. My clumsiness had betrayed me, and as a penalty I was about to pay with my life. I squeezed my eyes, expecting my slaughter…

…but I was unscathed, and the voice nonchalantly sounded again. "Antu…."

I became stock-still as the fear that had consumed me ebbed into hushed engrossment. Like the lotus, something very profound surrounded this term. And, although this was the first time in my life I had heard it, I was certain in my heart of hearts that the verbalism was incomplete.

It repeated: "Antu…."

Ever so quietly, the remainder of the phrase became audible. A thrill of hope shot through me when this happened and I was rapt in my endeavors to absorb it. Yet, similar to an ill-defined dream that's tricky to recall during waking hours, I couldn't interpret the final bit – my brain was not permitting me to do so.

As enticing as this mystery was, I was beginning to feel vulnerable in the blackness. I prepared to leave, when my vision detected an object near my feet. A thin ribbon of light from the cracked entry rested on it, and it resembled nothing more than a large mass of hair. I was about to pick it up, but a harrowing numbness paralyzed me when I distinguished that it was a decapitated human head.

I jerked my arm back, horrified. The head appeared freshly severed. Dark splatters of blood stained the skin of the jaw and ruined neck. The lids were half-way closed, sanctioning the dull eyes to gaze out forevermore. I then noticed the hair color, or lack of, actually, and my throat constricted when I recognized the unmistakable white, bushy mess….

"Yami," I mouthed.

I sat bolt upright in my seat, screaming. In an instant, every soul in the cabin was gawping at me. I felt somebody roughly grab my quaking shoulders. "Ryou, what's wrong?!" It was Dad.

I didn't possess the sense to utter any intelligible response. The sight of my other half beheaded had ferociously scarred my reasoning. Nefarious or not, he was a part of my soul… a part of me. Again, Dad pressed for an explanation, but he wasn't the only one to do this.

_/What the blazes are you doing, boy? Are you trying to give me a stroke?!/_

The abject that had almost drowned me evaporated when I heard him through our link. _/Yami, you're alive!/ _I cried mentally.

I take it my exclamation was not the reply he anticipated. _/Well, to some extent, yes,/ _he huffed dourly. He then suspiciously bit out, _/Why you are suddenly interested in my well-being? And why did you just scream blue-murder?/_

Assuring my father that I was fine, I hastily elaborated to Yami. _/I'd gone into my soul room so I can find you. Anyhow-/_

_/And why were you aspiring to locate me?/ _he cut across. _/Did you have wistful notions, like always, that I would apologize for the earlier incident? That's an idiosyncrasy I adore about you – your optimism is bottomless,/_ and he cackled heartlessly.

His insult peeved me, largely because it held legitimacy. _/Actually, I wanted you to explain the meaning of that bosh you so conveniently dropped to me last night,/ _I resolutely propounded. _/How can you claim that I'm 'not sick' if my readouts are considered medical mysteries to seven trained physicians, one of which will gladly examine me like a guinea pig tomorrow?/_

His snigger rang through my skull. _/Ryou, you fret too much. Now, resume your blether about the soul room./ _It was only later when I remembered he never gave me the information that I sought… damn him.

_/All right,/ _I took a deep breath. _/I knew that you wouldn't be in my room, so I went to your door and knocked. When you didn't answer-/_

_/You better not have trespassed,/ _he hissed scathingly.

_/I didn't,/ _I quickly thought. Before he could enter my memory to verify this, I added, _/Why had you not respon…./_ I didn't complete my inquiry, for I became mindful of something smooth clutched in my hand: a bulging wallet.

_/Let's just say that I was preoccupied with a task that tested my skills, until _some_ killjoy broke my concentration,/ _he abrasively stated.

I had been correct in postulating that he'd dominated my body whilst I had explored the chambers. And now, I held some poor individual's wallet Yami had plundered from who knew where. Fortunately, I spied a corner of a briefcase stowed under the seat in front of me and concluded it was the billfold's rightful place when I noticed the tampered locking mechanisms. As furtively as possible, I nudged the crocodile-skin wallet towards the case with my toe.

_/Why, you miserable dobber…/ _he gnashed poisonously.

_/As I was saying,/ _I persevered, giving his threat no credence, _/when I failed to receive a reply from you I took it you were skulking within the corridor. So, I explored the left branch… and do you know what I happened upon at the end?/_

_/No. I beg you to humor me./_

My mind revitalized the flashback of the murky oblivion, and my pulse quickened. _/I found a door, and I entered./ _I paused and, pleased that he held his tongue, I expounded further. _/It was pitch dark in the room beyond, and blinking stuffy. A short ways in I found a lotus bloom perched on a dais of sorts. It's odd but when I touched the flower I sensed a stirring very deep in my mind, almost like déjà vu./ _As I mentally spoke the words, my hands lightly pantomimed my earlier action of taking hold of the lotus. Sadly, the clean warmth that had radiated through me upon cradling the blossom was absent. Tightening my jaw, I added, _/After that, I saw a gory sight at my feet… a human head. And it… it resembled you, Yami./_

He started laughing insolently after I'd finished. _/Oh, that's whopping brilliant, Ryou! You actually had me going there for a moment. You're turning into a regular blag artist!/_

_/I'm not lying! The room was real!/_

His chortles died away, replaced with harsh steeliness. _/You know, I've a good mind to come out there right now and drive my fist into your mendacious mouth for disrupting my thieving./_

His warning had no effect. _/I heard a word when I was in there -/_

_/If you persist with this crap, I'm going to-/_

_/It was 'Antu!'/_

In a stroke, he fell silent. I knew I had hit upon something momentous based on his response, and I ardently pressed, _/It's significant to you too, isn't it? What does it mean?/_

I awaited his answer absorbedly, but instead received a turgid scoff. _/So, you're inventing words to heighten the authenticity of your deception, are you?/_

_/Come on! Where would I've dreamt up a word like that on my own? Now… do you know what it means?/ _I pleaded crisply.

He didn't respond for a few baited moments. _/No,/_ he quietly replied in my brain. _/I don't know its meaning./ _

And I knew, indisputably, that he indeed was being totally honest.

Aside from his interruption, he had become mum throughout my retelling of the aforementioned events. _/Ryou,/ _he started skeptically, _/you and I both have knowledge that there are only two orifices within that area: your door and mine. No other egress exists./_

_/That's what I had presumed as well, but I was clearly mistaken./_

I sensed his patience thinning. _/Again, there is _no_ other exit in that tunnel./_

_/What are you insinuating… that I'm fibbing?/_

_/Don't get cheeky with me, boy!/_ he screamed, further intensifying the pain enfolding my skull. _/Your account is nothing more than utter cack! You claimed that my bloodied head laid near your feet, correct?/_

I sighed heavily. _/Yami-/_

_/Correct?!/_

I flinched. _/Yes,/ _I timidly complied.

I could practically see the smart-ass smirk dominating his face. _/If I've been decapitated, how can I have the ability to converse with you, hmm? Alas, I fear that the strike I landed cross your jaw turned you a tad dippy, Yadonushi./_ He laughed raucously and retreated to his soul room.

I'm certain that if he had been in his physical form at that moment I would have belted him in a heartbeat. It got my wick whenever he called me 'Yadonushi'… his landlord. I absolutely loathed the thief, my heated emotions intensifying as I recalled the devout camaraderie between Yugi and the pharaoh – I had definitely received the short end of the pole regarding the spirits of the Millennium Items.

I had minimal desire to squander my brain cells trying to revive the discussion with the obstinate git. Curling up in the seat, I rested my chin upon my knees and let my lids block out the intrusive world. No matter what Yami had deemed, there _was_ another chamber. But what was its purpose? And, most significantly, why had every aspect about the room been shrouded in a secrecy that seemed intent to avert me from gathering any solutions about the place? The concealed doorway, the lotus, the disembodied voice… it seemed the more intently I focused on a particular facet the more obscured it became. Only when I had relaxed my mind revolving around the factors, as though they were afterthoughts, did anything shed its guarded front to a degree. It reminded me of stargazing – if you look directly at one it doesn't seem to burn as brightly as when you view it out of your peripheral vision. I gave a thin sigh as I pressed my brow against my knees. Whatever enigma the chamber contained, it would regrettably have to go unsolved, because I did not wish to revisit it.

---

The hazardous combination of the stinging pang behind my eye and being fed-up with my dark's contemptuous behavior festered in me for the next two hours, and when the jet landed at London Heathrow International Airport, I was in a full-fledged, cantankerous mood. This was further compounded by the flight crew's lack at concealing their glee that I was debarking.

Whilst my father retrieved the overhead baggage, I traipsed through the boarding gate. At once, a sickening throbbing rose in my throat; the previous time I had entered the international arrivals wing had been two months after my fifteenth birthday, but my sister had accompanied me. I gazed out one of the massive windows that stretched the length of the terminal, remembering that she had always loved to spy the aircrafts racing down the runways through this glass outpost. But now, without her presence, the area had lost its wonder and was no more than a place where thousands of faceless strangers passed through daily.

After milling amongst a wrapped queue of tourists in customs for no less than an hour, we located the car in the covered car park. I placed my suitcase on the rear seat and crawled in next to it.

"Don't you want to ride in the front?" Dad queried as he placed his belongings in the car's boot.

"I'd rather not," I said. "My head's pounding – I just want lie down back here."

He seemed troubled by what I had admitted, but he consented to my decision, nonetheless.

---

After paying the parking fee, we were off. Dad caught the on-ramp to the M-4; it would only be one short hour until I'd re-enter the apartment that held evocative memories for me… both happy and sorrowful.

My eyes half focused on the well-known scenery that blurred past us. I'd never dreamt it possible, but I was back in England; back in the very country that I had vowed never to set eyes upon again... and the only reason I'd returned had been no thanks to a of a cruel twist of fate.

Whilst there was little that could alleviate my doldrums, I felt a speck better when I bore in mind that at least I could employ my first language here. Yes, I could coast by comprehending and speaking Japanese, but it was forced on my part, still unnaturally foreign to my ears, and nothing gave me a more glaring slap of failure than stumbling through the dialect at a rather paltry attempt at keeping a conversation afloat with Yugi and the others. True, they gave gos at grasping English, yet I felt the effort they dedicated to their studies was minimal, and they simply relied on me: gullible and understanding Ryou to bridge the language gap. _Understanding_… the translation of my forename. I peered at the thick blanket of clouds hanging from the sky and sighed quietly. It was not unlike a doomed relationship: I put in all the labor and effort, trying to prove myself worthy, whereas the other person barely contributes and, despite my altruistic endeavors, I ultimately ending up suffering anyway.

The only person in the assembly who, dare I say, had a handle on English was Joey. Unfortunately, his crude mannerisms had much to be desired, and that made any of my conversations with him a waste of my time. I never had the heart to share with him that 'Joey' was a British slang for 'fool', a status of which he upheld wholly.

Perhaps because I was dwelling on these people, an observation rose like a scummy bubble in my current musings, demanding my undivided attention. Although they claimed I was their friend, they had never incorporated me in one of Téa's permanent marker "friendship rings". It might have seemed ridiculous that I concerned myself over my exclusion of such a seemingly sappy gesture, but its underlying significance was great, and their precluding me of their clique's initiation caused me to question the bounds of our comradeship.

Like a snowball effect, another notion rushed forth: in my years knowing them, hearing their claims that I was such a grand friend, they had _never_ addressed me as "Ryou" – only "Bakura". Joey was Joey, Yugi was Yugi, and so on, but for some reason or other this rule did not apply to me, even though I kindly requested numerous times that I preferred they use my forename. Funny… although I considered Yami a pestilence in my life, it was _he_ who had enough adulation to refer to me by my proper name; aside from Dad, the spirit was the only - for want of a better word - acquaintance who called me "Ryou". I furrowed my brow darkly, digesting all of this. Sure, we referred to Seto Kaiba by his surname, but that was owing to his elevated status and we were being formal. Did I elicit their uneasiness and they deemed they had to be demure in my presence, just as they'd sometimes change topics to something far more conservative if I dropped in on their conversations? Were they being standoffish to me given that I was a relative newbie in their gang, or was it because I housed Yami's spirit and that made them leery? Perhaps they experienced pity, just as they had at my birthday celebration, for the boy who wore the Millennium Ring, and concluded that my fragile ears couldn't endure their ramblings, so they felt obligated to coddle me instead. Was I a novelty to them; their little anomaly who's misfortunes made theirs' seem nominal when compared? Or, perchance, this entire "friendship" was a ploy so Yugi and the pharaoh could have easy access to the Ring….

My stomach clenched with guilt suddenly as these ideas flourished. Why was I feeling so hostile towards my friends? They were the only souls I could lean against, and no matter how heavy my misery, they never buckled under it. Furthermore, I was being totally illogical: Yugi had befriended me before he had knowledge that I owned the Ring; even if it was afterwards, he and the pharaoh weren't the types who plot. _It's this cruddy headache that's making me irritable, _I determined, and I dwelt on it no more.

I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, causing the dolor behind my eye to subside slightly. I had to look at the entire situation from a different perspective instead of focusing on the negative, be it a product of the past or present. After all, this land had been my home, and many joyous happenings had taken place for me in my youth here.

My youth.

I recalled a memory that I had all but forgotten from that period. The thought was as crisp as back on that day: _"Get away from here – you're not like us!"_

Even a decade later, the boy's voice burned my ears. His vilify had not been the first, though. I sighed, once again hating the fact that I was mixed-race. With my mum having been British and my father Japanese, I was not only the product of an international, but interracial coupling and from that I always felt like I was out of place in one country or the other. My name was Japanese, yet my native language was English; my pale hair and flesh contrasted sharply with my eyes that were black as chasms. Though many people had told me these features made me unique, I had always identified them as stigma. I had never shared it with any soul, but sometimes when I stared in a mirror, those large, softly rounded almond eyes looking back into mine, I would angle my face in a stab to appear pureblooded in one of my ethnicities.

_/So, we're back in the land from whence you hail,/ _Yami stated portentously from out of the blue, taking in the landscape through my eyes.

All day long he'd been toeing the line, and now, he'd crossed it. "Piss off, you scarab-bitten tomb robber!" I impetuously stated. It was too late by the time I realized I'd said it out loud.

"What?" Dad asked, apprehension concealed poorly in his voice. "What did you say, Ryou?"

"N-nothing," I lied, my face hot with foolishness as I sunk back into the seat. His eyes flitted on me in the rear-view mirror, fear gracing his haggard eyes. _Just flaming brilliant; first that whole fiasco on the jet, now me seemingly rowing with myself. He's going to think I'm mental!  
_  
When he turned his attention to navigating the motorway once more, I leaned my head back, lulled by the motion of the car. My heavy eyelids slid down, allowing my anguished thoughts to fade into gentle, beautiful nothingness.

Suddenly, as the hum of the motor faded from my ears, I heard a promise that snapped me wide-awake and held me hostage in morbid terror for the remainder of the car ride:

_/I'll deal with you later, boy./_

Oh dear God… what had I done?

-------------------------------

Well, if you're reading this now, you've come to the end of chapter three. I'll get chapter four up soon. Thanks for the reviews everyone!

Mei1105: Hmm… that would be interesting if his father found out about Yami. You never know. ;) And yes, Ryou does need a hug.

Ryou: I don't know why you have to pick on me in this story, DarkRulerDominica. :(

DRD: Because you're cute in angst, Ryou-kun! The little faces you make when you're scared are so kawaii, and your eyes get so huge!

Ryou: (nodding) That's true. But let Yami go easy on me in the next chapter, all right?

DRD: Um… sure. 9.9 (Throws that suggestion in the trash.)


	4. Accusation

Hello, hello! I'm finally posting the fourth chapter of Eternity!

First off, thanks for the reviews. :)

Secondly, I forgot to clarify something from the previous chapter: "kohl" is the eyeliner make-up the ancient Egyptians used.

This chapter has broken the previous one's record of twenty pages by being twenty-two pages long.

In this chapter, Ryou finally gets to visit Dr. Phillip Hutchinson, but it has its share of angst.

I also mention Ryou's parents name for the first time: his father is Hiro, and his mother was Cynthia. And speaking of Hiro, remember when I said that I imagined Ryou's father as looking like Japanese actor Hiroyuki Sanada? Well, I had always imagined whom he resembled, but it was just recently that I noticed that the actor's name begins with "Hiro."

Just an F.Y.I.: all of the Japanese names I've used for characters coincide with them. For example, Isha Naikai's (Ryou's physician in Domino) name translates into "doctor physician"; Kanojo (the girl Joey was with on the tape) means "girlfriend." Hiro's name, however, reflects his personality: "fatigue".

Well, here's the next chapter. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh.

_Accusation_

-------

It was late when we finally turned down Queen's Gate Street and arrived at the flat, due to being caught in a torrential rainstorm whilst on the M-4. The bucket down had opened shortly after Yami pronounced that he'd "deal with me later", so the sodden misery Mother Nature had unleashed embodied my emotions at that moment uncannily.

I stood in the deluge as Dad fumbled with his key chain, cursing audibly as he made an effort to identify the correct key in the slicing rain. I didn't bother to assist him; I just remained fast, too preoccupied with the morose anticipation as to what ramifications would befall me that night as a result of emboldening myself to the tomb robber. I slowly cast my eyes upon the façade of my late mother's apartment, the rain clinging to my eyelashes. I saw not the reassuring South Kensington home of my childhood, but a malefic, hellish prison where Yami could torture me, both physically and mentally. Now armed with justified reasons, I longed to flee the building, for a handful of the few, blithe memories I held related to the apartment, and I did not want any horrendous associations pulverizing my shards of contentment to dust.

The sharp _click_ of the lock announced that my father had gained access to the property, and my invariable scorning would be coming to fruition posthaste. Wiping the freezing drizzle from his face, he shot me a disgruntled look that I couldn't help but suspect was due to my lack with aiding him in finding the proper key. A suitcase firmly in each hand, he crossed the threshold into the pitch foyer.

My heart began to palpitate and I could feel my sweat mingling with the rainwater running down my nose. I would have rather remained in the downpour all night and risk developing pneumonia than enter the dwelling and progress to my bedroom unarmed. At least if I developed a respiratory infection, and it wasn't treated, I'd… well, my entire ordeal would finally come to a much-welcomed close.

"Hurry up and come inside!" Dad called as he disarmed the security system, the sound of his voice drowned by the sheets of rain lashing the street and pavement.

Being a lovely idea notwithstanding, I knew I couldn't remain in the inclement weather for the night so, drawing a shuddering breath, I stepped to my awaiting doom.

Dad snapped on the living room light as I entered, the resonation of his action ringing throughout the two stories. My stomach tightened at once as I reacquainted myself with the evocative surroundings that I had last seen when I was fifteen. The place had a tabid, bittersweet beauty about it, not unlike a marble crypt. Nothing had been moved, and I almost had the sensation that it was years before, and I was merely ending yet another day at home. Even though I very well knew what I was in for later that night, my heart lightened as I beheld the home from the majority of my childhood.

He removed his shoes and set out through the flat to switch on the lights. "Well, I'm glad the electricity was activated in time," he called out from the kitchen.

"Yeah," I flatly answered, pushing my dripping bangs from my eyes.

He emerged from the kitchen, yawning deeply. "I brought some ramen from home. Why don't you get yourself settled in upstairs while I cook us dinner?"

I could sense Yami's voracious anticipation to satiate his bloodlust, and I blurted, "No!" more forcefully than I'd intended.

Dad's last nerve snapped from my outburst. "That does it! Why have you been acting so off today?" he bollocked. "And why did you call me a 'tomb robber' in the car? I'm not stealing from graves – what I do is sanctioned and very scientific!"

I couldn't help myself and riposted, "Oh, is that what you call it? Then I guess you pocketing the Ring during Nas'tun'a'nuk falls under 'scientific', doesn't it?!"

He slapped me square across the face. It didn't so much hurt, as Yami's thrashings had most likely inured me to pain dealt by others, but I blinked dumbly, staggered by what had just passed.

"Ever since we left Domino you've been totally out of character!" He ticked the examples on his fingers. "Moody. Making sudden outbursts. Even vandalizing the jet!"

True - the points he had brought to light were 180° from my usual behavior. Yet how could I explain that my infractions that day had been instigated by Yami, and it was in fact _he_ who had nobbled the sensor? Therefore, I revealed the partial truth that would be more copasetic to him. "Well, I've felt uneasy about returning to London ever since Dr. Naikai recommended I visit Dr. Hutchinson." I wiped my damp hair away from my cheeks, and my voice enervated. "I knew that if I came back I'd be surrounded by constant reminders of Mum and Higeki…."

Dad nodded stiffly. "I see."

My answer, though meant to conceal the reason behind my uncharacteristic conduct, began splitting my emotional seams, awakening a raw misery I would have sacrificed anything to forget. "I never got over their deaths, and now not only am I required to return to the city where they were killed, but I'm forced to occupy their former residence…." I roughly wiped my accumulating tears away. "It's not fair!" I shrieked.

"Ryou…." he said solicitously, stepping forward and hugging my quavering form.

Leaning against a warm body easily permitted my emotive dam to give way. I all out blarted on his shoulder, my unfathomable sorrow violently racking me. "I don't… want… to… be here!" I blubbered between staccato breaths, sliding deeper into the black maw of desolation.

"Everything's going to be fine," he assured, soothingly rubbing my back.

"No, it won't!" I shouted, wrenching away. "Every second I spend in this apartment will only remind me that they're gone!" I smothered my face in my hands. "There are too many memories this building exhumes for me. The sights, the smells… I don't... I don't want to stay here!"

He sighed quietly, and then offered, "I don't particularly enjoy utilizing this place either as my accommodations whenever I frequent London, but it's sensible to do so. First off, it's now summer – the tourist season. All hotel rooms will be reserved. Moreover, even if I located a hotel with available lodgings, that's just a waste of, what, £200 per night. I'm not certain how many weeks or possibly months we'll need to remain for any tests Dr. Hutchinson may administrate, and that could mean a hotel bill can run upwards of tens of thousands of pounds – it's frivolous. Aside from the recollections equated with it, this is perfectly acceptable shelter."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded, though I hardly agreed.

"Also, I'm in close proximity to the museum here, so I won't have to travel far when I need to go in for any work concerning the Teknusabet project."

_Aha! You finally fess-up your true motivation_, I thought triumphantly. He was such a liar; our boarding in the flat had less to with hotel availability and expenses than it did convenience to the British Museum.

He pulled me closer once more. "I understand this will sound unsympathetic, but you're going to have to accept the fact that Cynthia and Higeki are dead."

"I know they're dead!" I snapped irritably. "Do you take me for a simpleton?!"

"Certainly not," he said wearily. "It's just that you commented that residing here will remind you they're no longer alive. I realize it'll be difficult, but you've got to move forward and put the past behind you, where it belongs. Otherwise, it'll ravage your mind." He pulled back to regard me. "You have to let it go. I did, after all."

He was right – I had to free myself from this pathos trap that I'd been ensnared in for three years. After all, Yami was forevermore in his by continually playing his victim card, and look what became of him. I couldn't let that happen to me. I sniffled loudly, feeling a bit better. "I'll try."

"That's what I want to hear," he beamed. Slipping on his sodden loafers, he said, "Why don't we go out to a restaurant? It'll be a nice way to wind down after such a hectic day."

I practically barked a laugh of disbelief. "Yes, let's," I obliged, grateful that my punishment would be deferred, even if only by a couple hours. As I made my way to the front door, however, I became keenly aware that someone watched me from the top of the stairs, which Dad had failed to illuminate. I chanced a glance, oblivious that I had ceased breathing.

There, atop the shadowy landing, perfectly silent, stood Yami. He curled his lips in an aggravated snarl, and the glow from the foyer's lights threw his features into sharp relief, causing him to appear all the more primal.

I didn't want to see him; didn't want to remind myself what would be waiting for me when Dad and I returned from the impromptu outing, so I averted my eyes, but not before I distinctly took notice that my dark mouthed the word, "Later."

---

Although my father could properly identify the nuances of relics dating between the tenth and twenty-first dynasties of ancient Egypt, he couldn't recognize a palatable meal even if his life depended on it. This was downright evidential based on the restaurant he decided upon that night. It was a two-leveled, mediocre establishment off Haymarket Street, and the place was perfumed with the aroma of rancid grease throughout. These downfalls did not deter my father one iota, though; he once shared with me that during one of his many Egyptian excursions he had survived a month on stale saltine crackers and jarred Vienna sausages so, suffice to say, an epicurean he was not.

As I picked the bones from my supposed fillet of fish, Dad exuberantly rambled about how he'd at long last prevailed at properly allocating the jewelry specimens of the Teknusabet project the night before, all with the exception of the missing usekh necklace. I, of course, didn't give a flip, as I had far more complicated deliberations requiring my undivided attention – chiefly, how I'd live through the night. Yami had thrashed me on numerous occasions before, but his driving motive had been because he was angry at himself and opted to unleash his aggression unto me, or I'd inadvertently thwarted one of his maniacal plots; never before had it stemmed from my straight-forward deriding him. What would he do to me? I forced myself to swallow a mouthful of the fried fish, but it felt like a lead ingot in my fluttering stomach. I slid the plate away, unable to enjoy my last meal in soundness.

Dad paused at his task of sawing through his over-cooked steak. "You're already finished? You hardly touched your food!" He furrowed his brow concernedly. "Are you feeling all right, Ryou?"

"I'm just a bit queasy, that's all," I infirmly replied.

He proceeded to chew the dried meat tenaciously. "Well, when we get back to the apartment you can relax and get some rest."

Little did he know.

---

The clouds had exhausted their supply of rain by the time Dad and I returned to Queen's Gate Street an hour later, and the overcast had broken in areas, revealing a scattering of glittering stars.

I followed my father closely as we entered the flat, trying to give myself a shallow sense of security.

Kicking off his shoes, he said, "I had a nice time, Ryou. You and I haven't been to a restaurant in ages."

"Mm-hmm," I distractedly concurred, my eyes roving up the sinister flight of stairs.

He then yawned leisurely and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm going to stay up and complete a few pages of research, but you should think about getting to bed. Remember, your appointment is scheduled for 1:00 pm tomorrow."

I could only nod, as the prospect of my impending doom sapped my energy.

He rested his hand on my shoulder after a moment's hesitation. "Dr. Hutchinson is going to give you a positive diagnosis. Please… until that happens, don't fluster yourself with it."

I smiled placidly, yet took his hypothesis with a grain of salt. After all, he had as much insight pertaining to my presumed disorder as I did. I turned to ascend the steps, when he added, "Be sure to take your suitcase. And… I apologize for slapping you."

Without a word, I retrieved my luggage leaning against the wooden banister. In that instant I considered telling my father that I loved him, as I would in all likelihood not survive my forthcoming slaughter. However, I reassessed it when I reflected that this was indirectly _his_ doing, as he had brought the Ring into my life. I plainly bade him goodnight then began climbing the steps to my room… and prescribed fate.

My brain was in a muddled blur as I plodded upwards, yet an observation bored its way free of the soupy, mental fog: what I was about to undergo was most likely the inauspicious situation I had so eagerly prophesied to my friends back in Domino, which they'd dismissed as neurosis on my part. I laughed. _How ironic I feared something that I would inevitably bring upon myself_.

I reached the landing; to my direct left lay the designated torture chamber: my old bedroom. The door was shut, forbidding me any view of a plausible ambush from the tomb thief.

I was utterly mortified. Because of my hastiness to feed into his taunts, I'd effectually ensured a ticket to my early grave. I contemplated never entering my room, but what good would that do? The spirit could attack me at any location as soon as the moment proved opportune. _Best get it over with_, I decided torpidly, twisting the handle and cracking the entrance ajar.

At once, the stale, familiar air was disturbed, and it made its displeasure known by brushing against my perspiring face. Chancing it, I stuck my vulnerable neck into the lightless area. "Yami, I know you're in here somewhere," my voice barely penetrated the viscous-like murk.

As expected, I failed to receive his answer, but strangely, I didn't sense him in the room at all.

I edged around the jamb and automatically ran my hand blindly over the bricked wall in search of a switch plate, but to no avail. Bugger it! I forgot – I never had a light switch in this room, as my bedside lamp served as the illumination source. I took a cursory glimpse and was able to discern the lamp's silhouette on the far side of the space, unmoved from its original location. As quiet as humanly possible, I traversed the length of the room towards the promising nightstand, cringing as the hardwood floor groaned beneath my weight and notified my precise whereabouts. Yet no harm befell me as I advanced. _Is it possible Yami had been pulling my leg in regard to braining me?_ I deliberated.

A floorboard creaked in the dark beside me. I stiffened, my instincts posing full authority over me.

Five seconds slipped by, then ten. Hesitantly, I took a gander at my right where the sound had originated, anticipating my vision to fall on the murderous being. However, the muted glow from the streetlamps outside revealed that the area was unoccupied.

A visceral frigidity dripped down my spinal cord as I flashed on the similar occurrences that had taken place in the arcane chamber I'd explored whilst on the aircraft. I fought to curb the recollections of that abominable place from pelting my mind's eye, and the only way to do so was reassuring myself that I'd never revisit, and it was largely hinged on one, burning reason: I suspected that I wasn't supposed to have uncovered that room at all, as my eyes were clearly not meant to see it.

I resumed my progression towards the lamp, knowledgeable that its light would cleanse a sizable portion of my perturbation. Just before my foot touched the floor, another creak shattered the silence and the current obstacle at hand revitalized itself in my awareness. But, like before, he wasn't in the vicinity, and I inferred that the unnerving sounds were par in a Victorian-aged building such as the flat. Still, I must have been an absolute nobhead to deem what I'd speculated earlier about Yami only teasing me as true. In the three hellacious years he had resided in me, I found that whether it entailed inflicting pain upon others or the prospect of torturing me, he kept his promise.

Always.

And he'd made a promise in the car.

I reached my destination and snapped on the utopian glow, yet I was doltish for buying into the childhood superstition that light chases away the terrors of the dark. He'd just as soon cause bloodshed in the sun-drenched outdoors as he would in shadowy surroundings. Also, I morosely observed, though he referred to me as his light, I most definitely never held any influence over him.

I scanned the room, and heart-sickening nostalgia overcame me. The place was just as I had remembered it those three years back, though my bookshelves, stripped mattress, as well as a new glass-topped table, supported a collection of Egyptian treasures, vindicating that Dad had used this area as storage in my absence. Unfortunately, I couldn't relish the reunion with my bedroom, as the looming stress regarding my homicidal dark ground away at my thoughts. Dropping my suitcase, I plodded towards the wall and sunk into the corner, awaiting the unavoidable. _Why did you do it, Ryou?_ I reprimanded myself fervidly. _Why the dobbing hell did you smart-mouth a phantasm who has a fixation with death and causing people excruciating pain?_ My emotions became overloaded as fear settled over me like a plastic bag, and I wept shakily. I knew… I knew in my forlorn heart that Yami would kill me that night. I smeared my tears away, calling to mind that my friends were perturbed when I suggested I might never return to Domino alive. "Well, you optimists, it looks as though I was accurate," I cursed. Narked at everyone - mainly myself - I ripped the Ring from my neck and heaved the bloody thing across the room. It collided with the opposite wall and I smirked most satisfyingly. I then lolled my head back and breathed, "Come on, Yami… just get it over with, will you?"

And so, I waited…

…and waited… but he never once materialized. Even when Dad decided to turn in for the night two hours later Yami's arrival had yet to happen. As the minutes slipped away, silence infiltrated the apartment like a slow-moving virus, and my ears tuned in on the most distinguishable sound: the faint ticking of the mantle clock downstairs….

I caught myself nodding off. I examined my watch: 11:00 pm. No wonder I was so sodding exhausted – my body's sleeping cycle was still programmed on Japanese time, so I'd been awake a full twenty-seven hours. I reckoned this was his stratagem from the onset: to see me wait on pins and needles like a moron for nothing. _He never had any intention of laying a finger on me_, I concluded, getting to my feet. _I played right along with that goit's sick game!_

Recognizing I was no longer - or actually, never was - in danger, I started unpacking, fuming allthewhile. He'd strung me along and probably got as much, if not more, pleasure watching me fret than if he had trounced me.

By the time I'd completed putting my clothes away my anger had waned, and I eagerly looked forward to sleep. I retrieved only a blanket from the linen closet, as I was near passing out, and, after shoving creased maps of Egypt off the barren bed, laid the blanket on top. I then undressed and slipped on my pajama bottoms, making certain to toss my grimy clothing on the Ring.

Crawling into bed, I wrapped myself in the covers and closed my sandy eyes._ Dad's right – maybe Dr. Hutchinson _will_ discredit Dr. Naikai's indistinct diagnosis_, I entertained, my mind thinning from slumber.

And I would've begun dreaming at that moment… had I not been jarred by the real-life nightmare.

A horrendous pain ripped through my scalp and neck as I was fiercely dragged by my hair out of bed. I was disoriented, only realizing what was happening when I was forced to my feet.

Yami was upholding his promise.

He rammed his fist into my stomach with such ferocity that I was certain shattered my spine. My mind whitened as inextricable agony blinded me, and I slumped over his offending arm like a corpse.

"When you can't breathe, you can't scream for help. That was one of the fundamental lessons I learnt when I started thieving," he whispered soullessly in my ear.

And breathe I could not. I remained doubled over, my vision unfocused on the floor. A single, viscous string of saliva trailed down my lip as guttural croaking emanated from within my broken body.

He threw me to the floor and straddled himself over my chest, pinning me down. "You know, in the past I would've massacred those daft enough to ever insult me…." He dug into his pants pocket and flicked out his ancient dagger, which winked ominously in the lamp's glow. "I've no reason to break such a tradition now."

I feebly grasped at him, unable to employ my voice to beg for him to show mercy, but he tiresomely maneuvered my hands away. "I don't understand you at all, Yadonushi," he reproached, positioning my hands under his knees to accompany my restrained body. "I thought we went over this last night that you are never to oppose me."

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say it," I weakly uttered, totally aghast.

He was unmoved by my groveling. "I've very little tolerance for driving home lessons multiple times that you should have absorbed after the first exposure," he solemnly explained. "Oh, and I searched for your so-called chamber in the soul hallway," he belittled. "There is no such room at either end, as I knew; furthermore, I see you _did_ intrude into my chamber!" He grabbed my bangs, jerking my head off the floor. "You lied to me bald faced on _two_ terms this day. I cannot believe you, you presumptuous little wanker!"

"No! No, y-you can't find it that easily – you have to see the entrance out of the corner of your eye!" I gasped, attempting to buy myself time in which I could strategize escape.

"Ha! A likely story! Now… what to do, what to do?" he mused, scratching his chin with the blade's glinting tip. "I could end your miserable life in a plethora of ways, host: strangulation, stabbing…." With his free hand, he traced a line against the flesh of my torso. "…Or, I could eviscerate you and perhaps if I'm feeling the mood, feast on your kidneys." His jagged canines were exposed in a terrible smile. "I ask myself, 'Which way is the most fitting for your unruliness?'"

My time was running scarce. I had to do something, but what?

Right then, a most satisfied grin befell him. "Ah yes - you said you had spied my severed head in your fictitious room whilst we were aboard the aircraft… I'm curious as to what you'd look like decapitated!"

"No!" I cried, but he shoved my chin forward regardless and pressed the blade against my trachea to carry out the deranged vivisection.

My end had come. _I hope lilies aren't the predominant flower at my funeral – I can't stand them_, I observed, surprisingly calm, and I shut my eyes as I accepted defeat.

I felt the weapon break the first delicate layer of skin. Any second, he would open my Carotid artery – I only prayed that I would lose consciousness before he began hacking at my neck vertebrae….

The dagger maintained its pressure on my throat, unwavering, when it subsided.

My choppy breathing met my ears in the sudden hush. What was going on? Calling upon the same courage, or stupidity, that I had utilized earlier to affront him, I dared a peek.

He continued to rest the knife against my neck, but his attention had deviated, his glassy eyes possessing a far-away reckoning deep within. "No, that's far too uncomplicated…" he mumbled to no one in particular. His gaze darted to mine; I was positive he was contriving something foul. Without warning, his expression melded into manic triumph, testifying that he deduced his plan was sure fire. "It's absobloodylutely brilliant," he hissed, turning his attention to my restrained arm, which had by then lost most of its sensation owing to his weight.

"Wha… what are you doing?" I croaked frantically as he repositioned the dagger above my bicep.

"It's best you don't squirm about – otherwise, I might slip and sever your Brachial artery. Now hold still." Before I could even begin to make sense of his advisement, he jabbed the knife into the sweaty flesh of my right arm.

Pain. Excruciating, thought-shattering pain was all I knew at that moment and a harrowing scream shredded my lungs.

"Shut the flaming fuck up!" he growled, jamming the base of his palm into my mouth to muffle my squeals before he messily plowed the blade though my muscle.

My back arched convulsively in throes as I frenetically dug my heels into the floor, begging him to stop through the mind-link. I felt the blade scrape against my humerus and I inadvertently clasped my teeth down on the spirit's hand. My action punctured the flesh and the taste of his decayed blood leaked across my tongue. However, he was much too involved in his act of sadism to take notice, a thrilled fury glazing his eyes.

I wanted to die, just so the pain would cease forever, and I seriously regretted that he hadn't separated my head from my body like he'd earlier suggested.

At last, he brought my torture to an end and jerked the stained knife free, splattering me with my own blood. "There! Wasn't that fun, Ryou?" he gasped, quivering with orgasmic-like excitement.

Blood flooded from my mangled arm. I was sliding into shock hastily, and I knew that in mere seconds I'd lose consciousness. Fading quickly, all I could accomplish was to weep under the mass of the thief, contemplating why I'd been dealt such a cruel fate in life.

"Shh… there, there," he crooned, resting his flushed cheek upon my forehead in some sort of sick distortion of comforting. "You mustn't be melancholy about this. After all…" he softened his voice to a purled whisper, "… the playing pieces have been set, and it'll only be a matter of time before I'm declared the victor." He sat up and, sneering, licked my blood off the dagger's blade, savoring the flavor.

Unable to ward off the billowing darkness, my eyes rolled into my head and I passed out.

I had no idea of the dastardly plot he had concocted.

Nor had I noticed he'd grasped his own arm with his free hand right before I fainted.

---

I woke the next morning to sheer agony. I was still on the floor and the muscles in my back felt as though they had solidified. I rolled to my side and began heaving my weight upon my arm, when searing pain caused me to regret the procedure. I collapsed, squeezing my eyes as the aftermath of Yami's abuse resurrected through my limb. Supporting myself on my other arm, I found my wobbly footing, the entire process leaving me winded like a feeble, old man.

A piercing ache near the base of my thumb drew my eyes to my hand. "Bloody shit!" I breathed, discovering the unmistakable marks of human teeth perforating the thick flesh. What the hell did the perverse nit do – bite me when I was unconscious?

My arm was a mess. The jagged puncture, though protected by a plug of coagulated blood, continued to bleed languorously around the edges. Cursing, I jetted to the washroom, turned on the sink, and rinsed the laceration. I clenched my teeth as the icy water dissolved the clot and spiraled down my arm in stained rivulets. Shutting off the faucet, I was about to assess the cut's severity, when at once hot crimson began oozing from it, flushing out the lingering water. Urgently, I grabbed a hanging towel and applied it to the wound with firm pressure. I realized I was in no immediate danger of bleeding to death; what worried me was that in one hour Dr. Hutchinson would be examining me and happen upon the gash. I considered that Lady Luck had given me a flirtatious wink when I had succeeded in pulling the wool over Dad's eyes concerning the injury Dr. Naikai had exhumed; repeating the feat would be damn near improbable.

I had to formulate something quickly… and lo and behold, I did.

I threw on my clothing, taking care as to not get any blood on my shirt. Allthewhile, I did my best not to focus on the dried puddle that the puncture had spilt overnight, on account of not wanting to send my stomach into a tailspin. Sadly, I'm ashamed to admit that I yielded to my dependence vice and draped the Ring over my neck.

Taking a cursory once-over to make certain Dad wasn't in the upstairs hallway, I suspired quietly, psyching myself for what I was about to attempt. I gingerly grasped my fingers around my torn bicep, and then bolted down the steps. "Dad!" I screamed, praying that my scheme would flourish.

I saw him in the kitchen, speaking to someone about the Teknusabet project on the telephone between sips of his coffee. Upon hearing my panicked shouting, he dropped the receiver and ran to me, nearly taking a tumble. "What's wrong, Ryou?!"

I displayed the lesion and plunged into the art I was systematically excelling in: lying. "I-I was upstairs getting dressed, when I slipped and gouged my arm on that ruddy table in my room!" Tears began descending my flushed cheeks, largely in part that my arm - in objection to being gripped - sent a fiery wave through my limb all the way to my fingertips.

He got an eyeful of the trauma and paled. "I have to get you to the hospital! Grab your shoes!" He sprinted back to the telephone and tersely spoke into the mouthpiece. "I do apologize, James, but I'll have to call you back. An emergency's just arisen with my son."

I half-listened to the remainder of his conversation as I laced up my sneakers, reflecting cynically. It had only been a year before that Yami pulled a twisted stunt similar to this by knifing my left arm during Kaiba's Battle City Tournament, which I can sparsely recall, as he had me possessed for seriously about ninety-seven percent of the time during those weeks. I do know that he had injured me as part of a machination to aid an Egyptian duelist named Marik Ishtar - whom I also can't remember for the life of me - in getting his hands on Yugi's Egyptian god card. This time, the spirit had no provocation to butcher me other than to get-off cruelly, the pervert. And what incited the sicko to bite my hand?

Dad returned, brandishing a dishtowel as a compress for my arm. "I seriously wished you hadn't done this until after seeing Dr. Hutchinson. This is going to interfere with the appointment timeframe," he berated as we exited the apartment.

"I'm sorry," I muttered, playing the ruse as long as possible.

As he pulled away from the curb he retrieved his cell phone and punched in a number that had been scratched on a scrap of paper. "We traveled over six-thousand miles to see this man, and within the exact hour you're to meet him you manage to get an injury that requires immediate attention from an emergency ward!" He paused his ranting when the receptionist answered. "Hello, my name is Hiro Bakura, and my son Ryou is scheduled to visit Phillip Hutchinson…. Yes, I'll hold."

I glared at the Ring in the draining silence. Yami had plausibly sabotaged my only real chance at receiving an answer regarding my unknown malady, as it would be unlikely that the endocrinologist could arrange another appointment for me in the near future. Now that I thought upon it, I did find the spirit's act of merely stabbing my arm for the hell of it after he'd swore reprimand out of character for him, and so I concluded that he'd wanted to just bring about enough damage that would only cause me to miss my appointment.

I set my jaw, unmindful to the blood pooling in my elbow crease. Something about my theory wasn't adding up… but what, exactly?

Dad suddenly speaking to someone coaxed me from my contemplation. "Oh, hello, Dr. Hutchinson, this is Hiro Bakura – you were to see my son today…."

A wave of goose pimples rippled over my flesh. He was conversing with the man who could conceivably provide me answers that very afternoon.

"Yes, well, unfortunately we must cancel because I'm shuttling him to the emergency ward." He shot his eyes reprovingly at me whilst the physician voiced something. "Well, the wound is critical – he gouged his arm on a table and it looks like he'll need to get it sutured."

I huddled in my seat, ashamed that I'd fibbed on so many instances during the successive three weeks.

In a rush, his demeanor buoyed. "Are you sure? We wouldn't want to impose on today's other patients… I see! Very well, Doctor, and I do appreciate this immensely!" He disconnected the call and had an unmistakably surfeited air about him. "He said you can have your arm treated there at King's College Hospital Trauma Center then walk over to his office."

I applied renewed pressure against the slash. "But what about arriving late?"

"He claimed it wouldn't inconvenience him if we postponed the appointment because he's cancelled meeting with other patients today on account of you."

I forced a watery smile. Great - was my malady that giganormous that the doctor had devoted the entire afternoon to perstringe his new experimental animal named 'Ryou'?

"And I do apologize for getting short with you earlier about your injury. I should've been wise enough to know it wasn't your fault."

My organs twisted with regret. It _was_ entirely my fault; after all, I should've implemented more temperance and not bought into the tomb robber's razzing by slandering him the evening before.

---

Fifteen minutes later, we were in the vicinity of King's College Hospital. Our arrival was at a most advantageous time, as the towel, positively swashy with blood, began dripping a sanguine mess on my jeans. As we turned the corner onto Bessemer Road, and the hospital sat in clear view, a reckoning flooded my mind; it was at this commonplace establishment that I'd learn if my six-thousand mile exodus had been fruitful or a dead-end.

Dad and I entered the harshly lit emergency department. I steadfastly compressed my arm, the towel smacking wetly against my elbow, and I found I was a touch light-headed. "Somebody, please – we need some assistance!" he yelled as he guided me along.

A young woman behind a check-in desk rushed out to intercede us, beckoned by the appearance of my sagging frame. "What's the trouble, sir?"

"He cut his arm on a piece of furniture," Dad summarily offered, slinging my uninjured limb over his shoulder.

I allowed her to pull the soiled towel away from the wound. "Ohh, that is rather unsightly." Scooping up a clipboard from the desk, she instructed us to follow her. "I'm going to set you up in one of the rooms, and when I spot a doctor or intern I'll flag them down."

Maneuvering agilely in the hall between gurneys holding patients prepped for surgery, the receptionist indicated an available room. After she obtained general information from me, she hurried away.

Dad meandered to a chair off to the side and lowered himself in its worn seat. "More than likely, they'll suture the wound," he mused, scratching his neck.

I tightened my jaw against the desolation that curdled my very marrow. I now had yet _another_ scar seared in my skin that would testify to my dark's unappeasable savagery.

At that time, a wan physician entered the room, removing his smudged glasses and wiping them on his scrubs. "Good afternoon – I'm Dr. Morgan. So, you punctured your arm this morning?" he dispassionately stated, replacing his spectacles upon his nose and offering a brisk handshake.

"That's correct," I answered, embellishing as smoothly as possible. "I tripped, and my arm nicked the corner of a sh- table." My heart fluttered against my ribs, causing my face to flush. That was close – I almost bumbled by saying "shelf." I had to keep the story in line with what I'd told Dad….

Wait, did I tell my father it was a shelf or table? Oh crap, I forgot!

Dr. Morgan extended my arm, evaluating the damage. "Well, it's far from life-threatening, but it will require stitches, nonetheless."

"But why hasn't the bleeding ceased? It's been well over thirteen hou-" Fucking hell, there I went again! _Damnit, Ryou, think your phrases through before you begin yapping away, man!_

The intern arched his eyebrow, clearly suspicious. "Pardon?"

I shook my head glibly. "Never mind… it's nothing."

"Well, your artery wasn't traumatized, if that's what's worrying you." Taking my arm, he swabbed away the excess blood with a square of gauze. "It does seem that a vessel was torn, but it can be repaired."

I apathetically nodded, contemplating his ironic statement: _"A vessel was torn."_ A torn vessel – that's what I was; Yami's vehicle. And he was progressively ripping my soul like frayed silk.

He tossed the gauze in the rubbish basket, and then stepped to the door. "I'll collect the suture supplies and be back shortly."

Dad shifted in the chair. "Just so you know, my son has an appointment with Phillip Hutchinson at 1:00 pm, so if you can hurry…."

"Of course," he jadedly agreed moments before slipping into the hall.

I slouched, entertaining how marvelous it would be without Yami further complicating my already problematical life. I had assumed the afternoon before that I'd leisurely prepare for the new day and meet the physician with no impediments. Instead, my other half wasted no time in mutilating me in a diabolical discipline.

The physician returned, carrying a tray ornamented with an assortment of formidable-looking medical arsenal: a syringe, black suturing string and a curving surgeon's needle. "Once I close the wound, it mustn't be bothered with for about… I'd say three weeks," he said, snapping a fresh pair of latex gloves on his hands. He started wiping an astringent on my slash, when he paused mid-stroke. "I'm sorry, but you said this occurred when you fell on a table corner, correct?"

An alarm began ringing in my head. "Yeah… that's right. Why?"

"Well, I ask because this injury has the characteristics indicative of a knife wound."

A strangled gasp left my lips. "It-it's not! I told you, I fell!" I blurted defensively, all too aware that the delicately laid foundation of my pretext was eroding.

"I don't doubt your account," he rebuked, "however, in my two years of practicing at this establishment I've seen practically dozens of incidences of knife stabbings and have learnt to recognize them."

I literally felt myself blanch as the moisture evaporated from my mouth and throat.

"Pardon me for saying so, but that's ludicrous!" Dad objected as he came to my aid. "My son said he hurt his arm when he landed on the table's corner."

Irritability leached through the doctor's professional demeanor. "Look here, if you please," he said, running his little finger along the edge of my gash. "In typical gouges the edges are bruised and ragged – this is due to the fact that the item that damaged the flesh is blunt. But, as you can plainly see, the opening of this laceration is a clean cut with minimal bruising – typical of damage from an extremely sharp blade." He finished cleaning the lesion. "Imagine you're cutting a steak; one piece with a knife, and the other with, say, a spoon," he explained. "Which would produce a more precise incision?"

_Oh, curse you and your medical acuity_, I mentally hissed as I witnessed the crumbled ruins of my lie become swept away by that nasty little maelstrom known as "uncovering".

Perplexity tweaked the intern's features when he caught sight of my exposed hand. "Is that… a bite?"

I clenched my fist shut. "No! It's just a cut!" Oh crap, everything was going pear-shaped before my eyes.

Dad shook his head, completely jiggered. "Are you saying someone attacked him? We just arrived from Japan yesterday and he hasn't had any rows with anybody – I've been with him the entire time."

Dr. Morgan placed the saturated cloth on the medical tray. "The _entire_ time?"

"Well, understandably I haven't followed him everywhere like a mother hen – he's gone to his bedroom and the washroom on his own."

The doctor gently steered my father away with a gloved hand. "If you'll excuse us, Ryou?" he smiled mildly, leading Dad into the hallway beyond.

What was he planning to tell him? After they'd exited, I stole to the opening and proceeded to eavesdrop.

"Now, what is this all about?" came Dad's voice, nearly blending in amongst the din of the emergency ward.

The intern took a deep breath. "Mr. Bakura, I trust you fully when you say he hasn't encountered any altercations with individuals who might have done this to him. However, the times that he's been away from you are culprits that must be taken into consideration."

"What do you mean?"

"I've seen situations like this before – somebody is admitted into the ward with lacerations all along their body. Sometimes we lose these patients because the injuries and blood loss are too severe."

I knew what he was implying, and my blood boiled inside as he uttered it.

"As disturbing as this might sound, I believe that Ryou sliced his arm with a knife, and presumably bit his hand."

Dad was dreadfully quiet. Hell, I would be too if that news were just dumped upon me. "On himself?"

"Yes. We call it indirect self-destructive behavior, or, in layman's terms, self mutilation. It can arise from depression, the need for other's attention, personality disorders, or schizophrenia. Have you ever had his mental health evaluated?"

"No," was my father's numb reply after a pregnant pause.

"Have you noticed any substantial personality changes of late?"

He ruminated the question, when finally, "Now that you've brought it up, yes. He's always been on the demure side and preferred to be solitary, but recently he's been grossly introverted and irritable. And, my God, yesterday his conduct was totally bizarre and uncalled-for."

"Like how?"

Dad exhaled gravely. "He was testy, would scream for no apparent reason, seemingly argue with himself and, I'm embarrassed to admit, destroyed one of the fire sensors on the jet." His eyes clouded with reckoning. "When… when he initially met with his physician in Japan, she came across a wound near his neck he claimed he had gotten the previous day. Moreover, his mouth had blood on it yesterday, and he asserted he had bitten his lip on accident. Do you suppose with both incidences there could have been a chance…."

"Quite possibly," Morgan concurred, nodding bleakly.

My father became silent, when he rhetorically whispered, "Why would he do something like cut and bite his body?"

"He may be afflicted by one of those disorders I mentioned, who knows. Those traits you described just now are synonymous with ISDB. Additionally, Ryou is displaying the classic personality of those affected by the sickness: fidgety, barely keeping eye contact, agitated and defensive. Does he have any friends?"

"Umm… yes, but they're an eclectic lot."

"You mentioned that he has an appointment with Phillip Hutchinson." He paused momentarily. "May I query why?"

Dad must've wanted to disregard all of this, for he was wordless for some time. Ultimately, he succumbed. "It's to determine what illness he might have. The physician in Japan couldn't properly identify the disorder, so she referred us to Dr. Hutchinson."

"That is a prime example, Mr. Bakura. Your son, no doubt, is suffering from a case of depression because of his medical status, combined what with the stress of traveling halfway around the globe to visit a doctor." He hesitated, and then added, "Of course, this is all my subjective opinion, but I think he mutilated himself."

"I'm thinking that, too."

A hot ripple of animosity pulsed through me. How dare that cur medical practitioner accuse me of something as vile as self-butchery? True, I'd been depressed for the past three years - I wasn't about to be in denial about that - but I'd _never_ resort to taking a blade to myself.

Right then, I detected their imminent footfalls and I scrambled back to the examination table. I just regained my seat as they entered. Dad looked as though he'd seen a ghost and proceeded to his chair quietly.

"All right, now we can address that gash," Morgan smiled, albeit it was forced.

My mind was in bits; so much in fact that I hardly gave notice when he sunk the hypodermic into my mangled limb and injected the anesthetic. I just prayed that Dad was perceptive enough to know that the intern's intimation was balderdash.

I closed my eyes as Morgan slid the threaded needle into my skin, and reflected that Yami's attack had damaged far more than my body and mind.

---

Thirty minutes and twenty-five stitches later, my father and I abandoned the trauma ward and wound our way through the labyrinthine corridors of King's College Hospital to Dr. Hutchinson's office. To my dismay, Dad's hushed austerity spoke volumes that he had thickly accepted Morgan's crock of a hypothesis as the bona fide truth. I increased my pace slightly, allowing him to trail in my wake, just to alleviate myself of his foul disposition.

And before too long, we found ourselves approaching the door that housed the specialist's office.

Though I knew nothing of the man's credentials other than Dr. Naikai's praises that he was highly revered in the medical community, I placed my conviction in him wholly… not that I had much choice.

However, with each step I took that closed the distance between the entrance and myself, I desired to wheel around and flee. I was afraid of what the endocrinologist would tell me, for the exposal, whether positive or negative, would have a major impact on my future.

We reached the door, which displayed the name of the occupant in engraved, brass lettering: Phillip Hutchinson, M.D.. I balked for the briefest moment before I boldly placed my hand on the knob and journeyed through.

Once inside, I found myself in a very formal sitting area, the main focal point being a receptionist working behind an enormous, cherry wood desk. She noticed us and paused typing. "May I help you?"

"Yes – I've an appointment with Phillip Hutchinson," I replied, my stomach knotting. "My name is Ryou Bakura."

Her eyes grew round at once. "Ah, yes… you're the Bakura boy that the doctor ordered me to cancel previous schedulings in honor of," she said, handing me a clipboard and pen. "If you please, sign in and take a seat."

I nodded in acknowledgement, taking the items and filling out the form. Whilst I did this, the lady dialed an extension and waited. Finally, "Doctor, Ryou Bakura has arrived… yes… all right." She hung up the receiver as I handed her the board. "He'll be out to greet you shortly."

"Okay," I smiled, though I felt like I was going to throw up. Not wanting to run the risk of dirtying her desk, I maundered over to an armchair and sat down. Spotting a pile of magazines fanned out on the table, I grabbed one, hoping to find an interesting article therein. However, my anxiety was in overdrive, and I only succeeded in skimming three consecutive sentences repeatedly, unable to absorb anything. Dad, too, seemed to be boggered as he read, and my blood pressure surged as I discovered why: every so often, his eyes shifted to my dressed arm and he would broodingly catch my gaze.

A door on the far side of the room opened, and I exhaled restlessly as the presumed physician stepped through. He smiled as he briskly strode towards Dad and I and extended his hand. "You must be Ryou. Welcome. I'm Phillip Hutchinson."

"Pleased to meet you," I responded decorously as he pumped my arm, though my greeting was purely formality rather than genuine feeling.

"And I'm his father, Hiro Bakura," Dad volunteered, shaking the physician's hand.

"Yes, yes, I spoke with you earlier." He genially regarded me. "I must say, that's an interesting hair color, Ryou. Is it natural?"

"Yes," I sighed exasperatingly, feeling put-upon by yet _another_ reminder that my hair shade was _so_ anomalous from everyone else's.

My father's eyes shot disdainfully in my direction. "Don't be rude," he hissed under his breath.

"I trust your injury wasn't too grave?" the physician said, attempting to steer the conversation to a cheerier direction.

Dad cut me the evil eye. "Unfortunately, it was – it required twenty-five stitches."

"Dear me, that's quite sizable…. Well, please join me in my office," he said, leading us from the anteroom.

Dr. Hutchinson's quarters mirrored the Edwardian richness of the reception area. The walls were adorned with about a dozen certificates proclaiming his title of endocrinologist, and stacks of aged books lined the room's heavy shelves. To lend the place a medical feel, a skeleton hung on a rack in the corner. I kept my distance, not desiring to investigate if it was a replica or someone's remains.

"Please have a seat," the doctor said, indicating a pair of chairs before his desk as he settled himself down. "So, when did you arrive in England?"

"Just yesterday afternoon, around 5:00 pm," Dad responded as he placed his acquired magazine in his lap. "We had to start yesterday very early."

The physician dug through his chest drawer. "I can imagine. What with you two having traveled all the way from Japan was quite an undertaking." He removed a file and placed it before him. I only needed to glance to see that my name had been scrawled in red marker on the folder's tab. He began thumbing through the packet, not seeming the least bit concerned. "Two weeks ago, Dr. Isha Naikai faxed these papers to me, claiming she'd 'stumbled upon a case that was quite baffling'." He placed a pair of reading spectacles upon his nose and reviewed the coversheet. "She basically said that your levels of growth hormones are stabilized, yet your physeal are in a stage of a growth spurt."

"Yes, that's what she also told us," Dad acknowledged.

The physician removed his glasses and smiled. "What's she's concluded is physically impossible. The growth plates in anyone or anything must receive adequate amounts of hormones in order to remain active. She believes your hormone production is indicative of an adult who's surpassed puberty, constituting that the levels have evened out. However, I must disagree with this inasmuch as your x-rays reveal your physeal have an extremely active appearance, and bones do not lie."

A shimmering hope that I hadn't experienced in a long while lifted my spirits. "So, there _is_ probability that she misdiagnosed me?"

"Quite," he nodded unworriedly. "Don't get me wrong – I'm certain she's very proficient with her practice; alas, it doesn't happen to be in the field of endocrinology." He reclined in his chair, resting his knitted hands on his front. "When I studied the readout she sent, two possibilities crossed my mind: either this Ryou lad is a scientific miracle, or his samples were contaminated, thus botching the lab findings. Naturally, being a skeptical man, I chose the latter as most credible of the pair." He took the packet in his hands and began randomly examining the pages. "I can say with ninety-nine percent conviction that your blood work was exposed to a contaminant, say, a skin cell of the technician responsible for running your tests, and that would cause your results to register atypical, such as this," he added, flaunting the printouts. "With you here, I can order more blood tests to be rerun, and they should come back right as rain."

I was relieved; ecstatic by his sureness that calmed me like a warm blanket. I was ready to thank him, when, "I will not lie to you – that is not the soul reason as to why I desired to meet you face to face," he continued. "Though I believe this entire hubbub to be nothing more than human error, there is that one percent chance something is awry with your hormonal system."

"I reckon Murphy's Law always has priority in cases like this," I mumbled, slumping back as distress leached through me when I comprehended that that elusive one percent would odds-on track its way to me.

Dr. Hutchinson smiled blandly. "Too true. But once again, I'm justly certain you're healthy - though I want to be conscientious to eliminate any skepticism dealing with your growth pattern and notify Isha of the conclusions." He shrugged. "I believe that if there _is_ anything defective with your hormonal system, the outcome will be that you won't be greatly tall in stature. Didn't you mention something to Isha about Ryou's height failing to increase much?" he questioned Dad.

"I did… but Doctor, he's still one-hundred and seventy centimeters, like he was when he was fifteen," he acknowledged solemnly.

The physician chuckled at this. "I'm confident that his height has increased since then, albeit very minutely. Unfortunately, the growth spurt of males ends around sixteen, so any additional height he gains will not be substantial." He scribbled notes on a few of the papers. "Do you have your wisdom teeth, Ryou?"

The spontaneous question indisputably threw me off, but I reflected on it. "No, I don't."

His ballpoint scratched on another page. "And Mr. Bakura, do either you or Ryou's mother have wisdom teeth?"

"His mother's dead," he answered quietly.

The physician's color drained and he dipped his head. "My sincerest apologies."

Dad smiled curtly. "Thank you. But as for the teeth, yes, I have them, and Cynthia did, as well." He paused, appearing wholly lost. "But I don't understand the significance…."

"It's simple, really - if you and Ryou's mum both had the third set of molars, then chances are he has them, though they have not yet erupted from his jaws," he patiently explained. "Let me set the circumstances straight for you: based on the information I've gathered from Isha, either through telephone conversations or these documents, she's theoretically saying your body's maturation suspended entirely at fifteen Ryou, which, of course, is plain absurd."

"Yes, I understand all that…." I trailed off as my brain interpreted his statement. "What?" I croaked, my eyes enormous with fear.

"I know," he laughed. "That was my exact reaction when I first read it. It's quite silly."

I barely heard him. Was _that_ Dr. Naikai's assumption – that'd I'd stopped aging? That was outrageous. I had speculated on and off again that she'd had been heading in that theory's route, but to hear another deduce that from her annotations was alarming. Herding my rampart mind, I feigned a collected head by stammering, "B-but I still don't follow your question pertaining to my molars."

"Well, a person's growth rate can easily be determined by the sets of teeth present in the mouth," he conveyed, tucking the pen into his jacket's breast pocket. "The wisdoms emerge somewhere between seventeen and twenty years of age. Hypothetically, yours may surface within the year, signifying that they've continually developed and shifted in your jaw, which only happens if a person has grown." He folded his hands leisurely. "I can take new x-rays of your mouth and compare them to your past dental records, which will undoubtedly illustrate the advancement of your teeth, consequently debunking Isha's conclusion. That would be concrete evidence that your body has progressed in aging." He rose from his chair and retrieved the file. "Of course, it couldn't serve as a substitute for the other tests I must run on you."

I nodded, feeling less uneasy about the whole ordeal, though I couldn't quite shake Dr. Naikai's morbid verdict from my brain. "All right."

"Excellent," the doctor smiled. "We can have the x-rays shot now, and afterwards I can begin the examination. Please follow me."

---

The process of taking images of my jaws lasted a quarter of an hour. Afterwards, the doctor escorted Dad and I to the appointed examination room.

As I tagged after the physician, I was keenly cognizant of the tension seeping from my father. "You can wait in the sitting room, if you wish," I muttered.

"Don't be ridiculous," he answered, making sure to keep his voice low. "It's my obligation as your parent to help you through this."

His words were cutting, whether or not he'd intended them to be. His choice to use "obligation" was in poor judgment, as it came across that it was a much-hated duty to accompany me. I sighed then continued forward, all too aware that he'd made a Freudian slip; I'd only be diluting myself to believe otherwise.

We were shown into an obscenely bright examination office. Its institutional feel was an unwelcome change from the endocrinologist's elegant quarters, and I began to feel vulnerable, not unlike a lab rat.

Crossing the room, Dr. Hutchinson made his way to a row of metal cabinets and gathered a menagerie of medical implements. "In addition to the blood tests, I'm going to record your frame's measurements, so you'll need to disrobe for that."

"Mm-hmm," I replied, feeling as though I was an anomaly put on display for the medical community.

Dad made himself useful by occupying a chair near a far window and drowning himself in his reading material. I smirked at this as I unbuttoned my jeans. _He sure has an off way of wanting to "help me through this", _I observed dryly. In spite of everything, I dismissed his inattentiveness as I pulled off the Ring and my shirt, aware that I needed to focus my energy on the exam, which would most likely be strenuous emotionally.

When I remained clothed in nothing but my boxers, the doctor came over, clipboard and pen in hand. "Right – let's begin, shall we?" No sooner he had uttered that, however, he took notice of my repaired arm. "Ah, so that's the wound I've heard so much about this afternoon," he chuckled, placing a stethoscope around his neck. "You nicked your arm on a table corner, correct?"

That one question triggered the examination to take a sharp nosedive.

I prepared to answer, when Dad abandoned his chair. "I'd like to speak with you outside, Dr. Hutchinson."

His bushy eyebrows traveled up his forehead in minor surprise. "Um… certainly."

My mouth dropped slightly as I peered at Dad whilst he and the physician exited the space. _Don't you dare fill his mind with grotty ideas about the slash's origin, Hiro,_ I fumed internally, when I caught myself. Never had I referred to Dad by his forename, even mentally. Well, my belligerence was no doubt because he'd got my mad up by wishing to disseminate Morgan's libelous notion to others.

Dad took him about ten meters down the corridor and began explaining what he reckoned was dead true. I couldn't hear his words, but I had no need to – his gestures interpreted as clear as crystal. He forlornly shook his head whilst indicating his arm and hand; allthewhile, Dr. Hutchinson appeared troubled by whatever crock he was being fed.

My increasing blood pressure caused my ears to tingle. Didn't my own father know me well enough to figure I'd never slump so low as to mutilate my own body? I supposed not – he never took any interest in my affairs or I.

After a minute that never seemed to have an end in sight, they returned. I eyed Dad filthily, but my efforts were wasted, as he opted to keep his gaze shifted from mine.

Moreover, Dr. Hutchinson's jovial personality had now been replaced with one that was restricted, much to my displeasure, as I had begun to warm up to his attitude. "Now, let's get started," he muttered, when his brow wrinkled with addling. "Curious…."

His utterance washed the contempt from me and perturbation filled the empty niche. "What? What's curious?"

He circled round me, taking in the details of my body. "Your frame has the characteristics of a young-aged adolescent."

That didn't sound auspicious in the least. "What do you mean?"

He tucked his pen behind his ear and elaborated. "During the mid teenage years, the limbs are not in the correct proportion to the body and head, unlike an adult's. In other words, the adolescents are gangly in appearance." He flipped a sheet on his board and began vehemently filling it out. "That adjective is a suitable description for your form, Ryou."

I'd never thought on it extensively, but he was right – I'd always been gawky, even in my late-teen years.

"Now, I don't want you to get anxious about it," he hastily added, clearly able to read my personality inordinately well. "You see, young peoples' bodies mature this way when they're undergoing a growth spurt." He proceeded to check my pulse. "This is additional proof that your body will increase its stature soon enough. Although I said the majority of a young man's growth abates around sixteen, yours might be instigating just now."

This time, Dad interjected. "But Isha Naikai commented that he seemed to be in a growth spurt when his hormones subsided…."

"We're trying to discount Isha's diagnosis, Mr. Bakura," he explained calmly. "I realize this might seem harsh, but please disregard anything she told you – after all, her conclusions were based upon faulty reports." Grabbing an ear thermometer, he continued. "Ryou's development rate has slowed, but his physeal state disproves that it's halted entirely. Actually Ryou, you may continue to grow into your mid-twenties."

My despondency lightened from hearing all of this. "So, that is probable?"

"Of course. Like I said, though most boys are around sixteen when the spurt ends, there are always exceptions to the rule. We humans have documented the happenings in our forms, but sometimes a nonconforming instance occurs, and we dismantle it until we locate an answer. The human body, though a fascinating machine, isn't perfect, and still holds secrets that science won't be able to unlock for decades, possibly even centuries."

I nodded as the heavy cloth of unease was peeled off me and I could breathe easily once more.

---

For three hours I endured the examination that Dr. Hutchinson reputed would provide the means for answers he, Dr. Naikai and I sought. I was poked and prodded, and when I was allowed to leave, I couldn't be happier. Purportedly, he'd have a diagnosis for me by three weeks at the most, in which time he'd compare my dental records from Domino and piece together the data he had gathered to solve this thorny puzzle.

Unfortunately, Dad's piss poor mood lingered even after we left the hospital, and I found it terribly contagious. As he drove us back to Queen's Gate, he remained silent, yet I sensed he was eager to say something biting. Sighing, I opened the floodgates. "All right, what's wrong, Dad?" Like I didn't know.

He continued staring at the traffic before us, his jaw working. "When Dr. Morgan spoke with me in the emergency department's hall, he shared his opinion of how your injury came to be."

My eyes penetrated him abrasively, challenging him to look me straight on and say it.

However, his vision was locked ahead. "What he told me is sickening, and I pray it's not true… but… he suggested that you inflicted the cuts upon yourself."

Acrimony bubbled inside me. "I know… I heard that quack's buggered-up speech."

He disappointedly surveyed me. "You were eavesdropping?"

"It's hard not to when you're the topic."

He groaned under his breath, and then said, "I can't believe you."

I glared out the window, attempting to turn a deaf ear to him.

The silence was upset when he made a truly erroneous statement: "Now I have to wonder – when your shoulder was bruised in Domino, was it because of an assault from school bullies like you claimed, or…."

"Don't even go there," I warned, the heat of anger tingeing my cheeks.

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and said no more for the remainder of the drive back to the apartment.

Yami's plan was coming together perfectly.

-------------------------------

DRD: So, Ryou, what'd you think about _that_?

Ryou: Ack! Why'd you let Yami knife me? That wasn't very nice, you know. T.T

DRD: Huh? Oh, like I said, you and angst go together like milk and cookies. No, I was meaning when Yami was sitting on you. XD

Ryou: (blushing furiously and looking away) I did not like that, DarkRulerDominica!

Yami no Bakura: Aww… you didn't like the fact that I sat so near your crotch, Ryou?

Ryou: No! And I haven't fantasized about it since!

DRD: So, you fantasized about it then? X3

Ryou: (flustered) I-I… that's not what I meant!

DRD and Yami: (smirking) Sure.

Yami: Yes… the symbolism in that part was superb, DarkRulerDominica. Sticking my dagger in him, "quivering with orgasmic-like excitement"… it's brilliant! I loved it!

DRD: Hooray for symbolism! Unfortunately, that's the closest thing to yaoi written in this story. :(

Ryou: But why?!

…

I didn't say that. (scampers away.)

DRD: Yay! In addition to that "faux lemon", Ryou was shirtless on two occasions in this chapter. X3

Anyway, have any of you readers figured out what's wrong with Ryou yet? If you do, Private Message me the answers - if you guess it right, I don't want it to give it away for anyone else.

However, you can leave any reviews here. :) Also, did you see the numerous hints I dropped in this chapter? ;) If not, re-read!

The next chapter will be up soon. And if you like angst, you'll be in for a definite treat! Until then, cheers!


	5. Violation

Greetings once again! Well, it's time for the next chapter. This chapter has broken the length record, as it contains 25 pages.

In this chapter, I try to convey the horrors that can occur when Ryou is possessed by Yami Bakura. Just a word of caution: this section definitely contains the "adult themes" that I warned about at the beginning of the tale (remember, Yami no Bakura is a cruel, callous monster). Also, keep your eyes open for more clues!

I had to research British law procedures extensively for this part (massaging temples). I then condensed it into a neat, little package.

A "barrister" is the term for a lawyer in England.

Just to clarify: when I mentioned Yami no's "bloodstained teeth", it's not because he had eaten something bloody hours before – it's just normal staining on his teeth owing to his habit of eating raw and/or undercooked meat.

Here are some little fun facts: every location I list in this chapter is a real site and can be visited (with the exception of the Bakura apartment): the streets, stores and attractions (the London Dungeon is tremendously fun… if your stomach can withstand the sights of viscera strewn around replica corpses like party streamers, robotic reenactments of horrid tortures, life-size figures of infamous people and acts of brutal violence of England… all within pitch, twisting corridors and damp dungeons sets, that is). If you ever have the chance to visit London, be sure to visit it). Furthermore, the word "ackers" is a British slang for "money", and it's derived from the Egyptian word for money, "akka".

So, here is the fifth chapter. Please read it and review! Thanks!

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh.

_Violation_

-------

The remainder of July gradually heated into the humid days of August. Since he'd slashed my arm, Yami had not revealed his presence once. I wasn't complaining though; on the contrary, I was quite grateful, as the respite from him permitted my physical injuries, as well as a few of my mental variety, to mend.

Dad had completely allowed his work to swallow him alive yet again as he'd done so in Japan. The Teknusabet shipment that had plagued our home life in Domino arrived the day after I'd received my sutures, and he'd been tending to it non-stop. Supposedly, whilst translating an engraved stele, he'd happened upon as-yet undiscovered information regarding the mummification process for pharaohs. Moreover, he would spend any free time at the British Museum - sometimes as many as eighteen hours in a go. As much as I realized it was imperative he complete his project, I couldn't help but suspect that his sedulous actions were an attempt to avoid me.

I sat in the sun-warmed dining room one Thursday morning, sipping a cuppa. Dad was securing a case of royal nekhakha flails somewhere in another room of the flat, but I was enjoying my solace quite comfortably. It had only been recently that I had been able to savor any tranquility, as I'd waited diligently for Dr. Hutchinson's phone call every waking hour since seeing him. But by this time, I sensed that his failure to follow-up was his personal way of conveying that my condition refused to yield its secrets, even to he. I resigned myself that no amount of fretting could ever bring any closure, so I took the rest of our prolonged visit to London in small strides, knowing that the only thing I could wait for was my father to complete his archaeological task until we could depart for Japan.

As I refilled my mug with hot tea, Dad entered the kitchen, the secured case under one arm and a thick stack of volumes beneath the other. "I'm leaving for the museum now, Ryou," he said, re-shifting the slippery books in his grasp. "I should be back by mid-afternoon."

"Whatever," I mumbled into my cup, though more audibly than I'd intended.

The heavy-laden hush creeping through the area tipped me off that he had caught my sarcasm. "I wish you'd at least _pretend_ to be enthused," he stated waspishly. "I may have unearthed material that will be indispensable for the field of archaeology and you're acting as though it's trivial!"

The back of my neck and scalp burned with frustration. "Sorry."

He lingered for a moment longer, and I was certain he was going to say something biting. However, he turned on his heel and left the room. "See you later," I intoned, though only the empty doorway received my farewell.

---

The temperate weather did not have to try hard to coax me outside the apartment shortly thereafter. I had no specific destination, but I knew I had a craving to reacquaint myself with the sprawling metropolis that was my birthplace. Pocketing a wad of ackers, I headed out the front door, completely ignorant that on that day events would transpire that would alter the course of my existence forever.

For hours, I bimbled through the great expanse that was London, my mind and senses distracted by stimuli ranging from thousand-year old architecture to the neon glitz of Piccadilly Circus. There were so many varied sights in fact that Yami, after remaining low-keyed for nearly a month, mentally ordered that we enter the gothic-style building that I feared would pique his sick interest: the London Dungeon.

It was a terrible place! Even though it was museum and horror attraction hybrid highlighting the tortures the British had perfected in the past, I saw it as nothing more than a hairy nightmare. Yami, however, found the lurid gore quite amusing, singularly in the damp chamber with the skewered heads, and his cackles of necrophiliac delight deafened me.

I was a dithering wreck after I endured the forty-five minute tour and couldn't be happier when I exited and felt the bathing rays of sunlight on my skin. _/Why'd you make me go through there, Yami? You know I can't stand gore! If you wanted to witness that scandalous bunk you could've at least had the civility to possess me!/_ I badgered through the mind-link.

_/You're such a jessie, Ryou!/ _he chided, pointing out the evident.

It was only when I arrived at Hyde Park Corner that my mind's eye halted its constant replay of the images that were certain to rob me of slumber that night. As I waited for the pedestrian crossing signal, I decided it best that I return home.

I headed down Brompton Road, certain to keep my eyes stoically forward and not glance the street itself. To most individuals the busy road was known as the location of the world-famous Harrods department store, but for me, it had a darker association: it was where my mum and sister perished three years before.

I reached another corner, gauging when I could safely pass through the heavy traffic, when my concentration was disturbed in the most pleasant, wonderful way. "Ryou?" came a young woman's voice from behind me, which I recognized at once.

I turned round exuberantly and found myself looking upon pure radiance. It was her: Angela Collins - the girl of my dreams! I'd always had a mad crush on her since I'd met her six years prior at the London school we had attended, but could never muster up the gumption to tell her my unrequited feelings. Additionally, she'd been one of my few peers who brushed away any prejudices correlating to my abnormal hair color and the status of my divorced parents. "Angela!" I cried, keen that my heart rate increased by the second.

She pressed a hand against her ecstatic smile. "It _is_ you – I can't believe it!" She rushed forward, the sunlight shimmering on her strawberry-blonde hair and delicate complexion. "How are you?" she chimed, catching her breath.

Having her so close to my body promptly reverted my logic to that of a four-year old, and it was backbreaking to stumble through the simple phrase, "I'm fine!"

She prepared to speak, when a large swelling of people bustled past us, forcing us to back against a storefront. Grabbing my arm, she said, "Over here," and she led us to a near-by side street that could afford us more privacy. Finally, away from the commotion, she repositioned her book bag upon her shoulder and beamed. "You haven't changed a bit, Ryou. You look exactly like you did those three years ago!"

If someone else had commented that my appearance was similar to when I'd been fifteen, I would've been ticked off. However, when those words drifted form Angela's lips it was tolerable, even mollifying. "Thank you – and you look the same, as well," I lied, too embarrassed to avow that she was more beautiful than ever.

At that moment, her face paled with sorrow. "I realize it's years after the fact, but please accept my condolences regarding your mum and sister's deaths." She lowered her green eyes meekly. "I… I never got to tell you how sorry I was because the last time I saw you was when the headmaster delivered that dreadful news."

Her expression devastated my heart. "You needn't apologize, Angela; you had nothing to do with them dying…."

She presented a brittle smile. "I know – I just wanted you to know that I cared."

I nodded tacitly, wondering how I'd existed for so long without her.

"So… what are you doing in England?" she asked, neutralizing the tension. "I know that you've been living with your father in Japan for three years now." She bit her lower lip. "Have you returned here permanently?"

"Actually, no," I fessed, regretful due to her resulting deflated expression. "I came back because I was referred to see a physician here by my doctor in Domino. My father's accompanying me, and we're waiting for my results from a test I had conducted about a month ago."

She clutched at her chest horrifyingly. "You came to see a physician? Are you ill?"

"It's nothing serious," I dismissively shook my head – clearly, being in her company permitted me to forget that I had been fretting over my health for months. "Oh, and my dad is doing some work at the museum for his current assignment."

"So he's still involved with those Egyptology studies?"

I scratched my neck, although it was purely to give my hands something to do, as there was no itch. "Yeah… he'd been working doggedly for almost a year on this task – it's entitled 'Teknusabet'."

She bobbed her head with taut understanding, already insightful of my scattered family life from years preceding. "Well, he'll finish soon. After all, you said he's been at it for nearly a year."

I nodded, though I couldn't see how her forecast was plausible.

Unexpectedly, we found ourselves in an awkward hush. My tack of thought was wonky, trying to determine a subject we could discuss, but when I eventually decided on one and began to speak, Angela did so as well.

We both sniggered at our folly like children, the sound of our laughs resounding through the alley. To be there with her put me thoroughly over the moon, and for that moment every obstacle in my life disintegrated. Haphazardly regaining my composure, I voiced the question I had intended to ask. "Where are you going with those books?"

"Oh, I have to return these to the library," she answered, brushing her hair behind her shoulder. "They're due today." She paused, when she smiled quizzically. "Are you all right, Ryou? Your face is flushed!"

Criminy, she was right, but I found it acceptable to merely grin like a love struck fool. "It must be the weather," I dallied, feeling every inch of my skin heating with tingling warmth.

"Right..." she concurred, a blush touching her own cheeks.

"So, do you still live at the same address?" I asked offhandedly, trying to stall the encroaching ending of the chat.

"Yes, I do!" she replied, heaving her slipping book bag upon her shoulder. "I'm trying to find my own place, though – my mum and dad are driving me crazy!" she grinned goofily.

Seeing Angela like that made my heart feel as though it had sprouted wings. If I could've had one wish granted to me right then and there it would've been to continue the discussion forever. However, although I believed very much in curses and had the spirit of a psychotic tomb robber inhabiting my body, my belief in the existence of wishes was nil. I prepared to bid her farewell, when she approached me. I froze as she came nearer, my mind strangely clear and racing with anticipation of what she'd do next.

Finally face to face, she wrapped her arms around my numb body. My previously alert-heightened mind dissolved into a rapturous bliss as she embraced me. Evoking the last bit of logic in my brain, I reciprocated her actions, holding her tightly in my arms. All I knew during that infinitesimal juncture in time was that we held one another; nothing else mattered nor existed. We were the only ones.

"I'm so glad you're back, Ryou," she whispered, resting her head on my shoulder, the scent of her hair driving me wild. "I just hope the doctors find there's nothing wrong with you."

I had to abstain very forcefully to keep my hands from sliding any lower than the small of her back. We stood there for five seconds, five years, who knows, before she gently pulled away from me, to my chagrin. My besotted brain recovered fractionally as I regarded her, though I knew that the optimum performance of my mind would not recuperate for at least an hour.

"Well..." she said, lightly bouncing on the balls of her feet, "… I have to leave now, but maybe I'll see you later. Take care, Ryou!" she added before departing.

I watched as she turned the corner and vanished from sight. I stood quite still, dumbfounded as to what had occurred moments before. Her scent still lingered in the alleyway, keeping me in my catatonic-like euphoria.

I barely noticed when the Ring began to glow and Yami appeared beside me, also peering at the area where Angela was last. "She's very beautiful," he said in an emotionless tone, nodding. 

The instant he uttered that statement I was slapped fiercely in the face by reality. Something in his tone roused me, causing my blood to freeze. Viciously, I whipped my head in his direction, and before I knew it, I said the thought that was foremost in my mind: "Don't you touch her, Yami!"

He turned to me, a mild look of surprise touching his features. "Hikari," he said in a mockingly hurt tone, "I would think that you'd have higher regard of me. What do you think I'm going to do to your dear Angela? Hurt her?" He then spoke the next in a barely audible and dangerous tone, his snarling lips exposing his canines. "Rape her?"

I cringed inwardly - he had terrifyingly hit it on the head. But I remained stoic, praying that I didn't show otherwise, for Angela's sake. I knew that if I displayed even remote distress to his threat her life would be in peril. Keeping unruffled, I matter-of-factly stated, "Stay away from her."

He grinned knowingly. "You love her, don't you?" he leered. "That girl means the world to you… doesn't she?"

"Stay away from her. Please," I regurgitated.

He kept his unreadable gaze on mine, a look of contemplating in his sooty eyes. Finally, he smirked. "Don't worry yourself, Ryou. My temporary form wouldn't survive long enough to even locate her in this city. I'd need… a stable body for that." He sniggered before he became enveloped in an amorphous aura and faded back into the Ring.

As soon as he had gone, I collapsed from the anxiety I'd been stifling. I hugged my knees tightly to my chest, realizing the danger to which I'd almost exposed Angela. A groan escaped my throat as I buried my head in my knees, already regretting having spoken to her. But I couldn't be so hard on myself, I thought; after all, Yami himself had even pointed out the fact that his body would disintegrate after a short while away from the Ring.

My spirits lightening substantially, I regained my footing and brushed myself off. I left the confines of the alley - as well as my disquiet - behind, my mind once again infatuated with the thought of Angela. I couldn't believe it – she actually said that she might see me later! As I jauntily maneuvered my way through the snarl of people, I fantasized about going out with her, and I grinned as my corrupt adolescent mind visualized all the possible activities following the date, principally of the carnal variety.

My elation caused me to develop a wolfish appetite. I stopped at a street café, picking up a hamburger to go. I kept it wrapped up, preferring the array of condiments available at home. As I stood at the corner waiting for the crossing signal, I realized I was, dare I say, happy.

---

"I'm home," I announced when I entered the apartment twenty minutes later. The only response I received, however, was my own voice reverberating through the sparsely furnished rooms. Removing my shoes, I made my way towards the kitchen; I had a nagging feeling what would greet me upon my arrival.

As I had prognosticated, the red light on the answering machine blinked irritatingly. I really had no need to listen to the awaiting message; I knew it would be Dad informing me that he'd be at the museum until late that night. However, just to put it behind me, I pressed the _announce_ button and proceeded to collect the ingredients I wished to add on my burger.

"Ryou," came my father's voice, the sounds of people in the background, "it's Dad. Listen, I'm not sure if you're there, but I… I'm going to have to stay late tonight."

I half listened to his message, my mind more focused on locating the mustard jar in the far recesses of the refrigerator.

"If you are there I wouldn't blame you for not picking up the phone. I understand that you're going through a tremendous amount of turmoil now, and my inattentiveness isn't helping matters much."

I heard him sigh, and I abandoned my search of the mustard, slowly straightening, my focus forward.

"It's just that… we made a discovery this afternoon pertaining to the Teknusabet dig that's astronomical and I need to record everything accurately. You must understand my position, son."

I grunted and turned my attention to grabbing the mustard jar. I knew I should have been more respectful of his work, but frankly, his perpetual involvement with that project was getting under my skin. He'd been eating, sleeping and breathing it for nine months solid.

"Well, I should go now, but I want you to know something – you mean everything to me, Ryou. I – I love you, son."

I froze, a wiggly lump rising in my throat. It had been so long since I'd heard him say that, it was as if he were speaking a foreign language. I turned and gazed at the silver and black recorder, wanting it to utter more encouraging words as though they were its own. However, the sounds that met my pining ears were the eventual _click_ of the phone receiver, followed by a mechanical, female voice proclaiming, _"Sixteen twenty-three."_

I played the message once more, my intolerance for his work and my dissension towards him dissolving. He probably didn't comprehend how much I needed to hear reassurance that he loved me when he had been leaving the message. Bracingly, I began dressing my burger, exhilaration threatening to burst my heart.

There was absolutely nothing Yami could do now to crush my spirits that week.

Balancing the loaded plate and climbing the stairs, I proceeded to my bedroom. Upon entering, I slid the window open, the humid air and the hum of traffic imbuing the space. It was funny, but that simple act of opening the window transformed the room from stagnant and foreboding to pulsing and virile.

I took a seat, preparing to devour my dinner when, without warning, I felt my mind closing, declaring that Yami was once again taking control of my body. Knowing it was futile to resist his efforts, I gave in quickly, only remembering my burger before I lost consciousness.

---

I came to the next day, the hazy morning sun burning my neck. I was lying on the couch in my room, my face pressed against the cushions and my left arm draped painfully over the back. I pushed myself up, cringing from the throbbing emanating from my entire body. "Damnit, Yami, what'd you do to me?" I thickly mumbled, massaging feeling back into my numb arm.

Stretching the kinks out of my lower back, I stood up before noticing that I was wearing my sneakers. Great; Yami's escapades from the night before encompassed him leaving the flat. Whatever had happened during my duress, though, I didn't care.

I sleepily rubbed my greasy face, when I sensed a stinging sensation on my left cheek. I cursed under my breath as I took furious strides towards the washroom, fearing what injury would meet my eyes _this_ time.

Flicking on the switch, I leaned over the sink and stared at my reflection, and the cause of the discomfort became apparent: starting under my left eye and terminating on my chin was what appeared to be a fresh cut. However, as I studied it more carefully I determined it was a scratch, the raw flesh shiny and angry pink.

Livid, I grasped the Ring resting around my neck and shook it violently. "Come out, Yami, right now!" I growled, wanting an explanation as to why he'd injured my face. The only response I got was the unassuming tinkling of the Ring's tapered needles brushing against each other. Disgruntled, I let it slap back against my chest, knowledgeable that he was simply being mulish and brushing me off. Oh well, I already knew the answer as to why he'd done it: I'd been in the presence of the thief long enough to know that he got his jollies by mutilating his body, be it his temporary one or mine whilst he infiltrated it. I remembered one time when, after breaking free from my soul room, I regained control of my body and interrupted his act of dragging his dagger fiercely across the crooks of my arms, narrowly missing the arteries. Sick, masochistic bastard.

Bandaging the wound, I returned to my room and collapsed on my bed. Yami's manipulations of my form always left me exhausted, as he had unofficially decreed it was his given entitlement to push my body near breaking-limit, but I felt excessively worn out that morning. Perhaps it was a direct aftereffect of the bizarre dreams I'd experienced during the night. The first had been rather disturbing: I distantly recall it had been pitch black, though I could hear a young woman, screaming and crying. The next dream, however, was more peculiar: my dad had been wrapped in linen bandages, claiming that we were going to visit the dig site of the Teknusabet expedition. I was wearing a voluminous, crimson robe in the dream, along with a flaxen wrap around my waist. I asked him, "Why are we going to visit the site?" but what sprung from my mouth was not English, but a language I had no knowledge of.

I rolled over on my back, once again growing thickly envious of Yugi's kindred relationship with the pharaoh, when I caught sight of my burger plate, sans the burger. _That jerk! Not only did he subjugate me, he gluttonously ate my meal!_

But him scrounging my dinner was trivial when I bring to mind that incident now. If I had known what he had done twelve hours before, what ghastly, vile atrocity he had committed whilst usurping me, the burger would have been the least of my worries. And I became aware of his crime when:

_Knock, knock!_

I snapped out of my state of stewing when a knocking arose from the front door. I wondered who it was at this hour – if Dad was returning now, he'd have used his key.

The sound came again.

Curious, I galloped down the stairs, vaguely realizing that I hadn't even brushed my teeth.

Peering out the spy hole, the sight of three police officers met my vision. A frigid rawness spread through my veins like ice crystals. _Why are they here? What's Yami done?_ I thought tensely. Whatever it had been, because of our nearly identical features I'd be the one blamed… as usual.

I wasn't about to let that happen.

I found myself holding my breath, praying silently that they'd leave if they judged no one was home.

I became aware of movement at my side. Shifting my eyes sideways, I saw Yami examining the door with deep discouragement, tsking me. "Now Ryou, I'd have thought by your law-abiding behavior that you'd know to respect your authorities," he reproved softly as though I were a foolish child. I was about to shush him, when he bellowed, "Who's there?" making his voice unnervingly identical to mine.

A blubbering whimper issued from me as I stared at him with glassy eyes, horrified that he had just betrayed my whereabouts.

I heard a man's voice forcibly boom, "Open up – this is the Metropolitan Police!"

If I'd had anything in my stomach at that moment I would have thrown up from anxiety. Knowing that it was too late to keep up the ruse of my absence from the apartment, I dazedly unlatched the lock. In the moment I grasped the knob, my fear evolved into disgust and I shot a venomous glare at my darker half, who continued to stare idly at me, clearing enjoying my agitation. "What did you do?" I bit out, my hanging hand balled tightly and trembling.

He smiled, exposing his bloodstained teeth. "Me?" he intoned, lightly touching his chest. "I think you should be questioning yourself. After all, it was your body that committed the crime."

I couldn't help myself. Instantly, I tried to clout him in the mouth, but too late; he dissipated before I could land a hit, resulting in me stumbling to the ground. _What bloody bullshit! I haven't done anything – he has! He's just trying to screw with my mind,_ I thought, nursing my throbbing knee.

I was shaken back to the immediate quandary, however, when the constable shouted, "Open the door this instant or we'll come in by force!"

Clumsily, I found my footing, my courage deserting me as Yami had. Twisting the knob with my slick, shaking hands proved difficult. Squeezing my eyes shut, fearing what I'd discover concerning the offense the spirit had carried out, I took a deep breath and swung the door open. "H-hello," I said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible to the trio before me. They regarded me with stern expressions, their eyes narrowing dangerously. I wanted to slam the door close, but that would seem a tad suspicious on my part.

The officer to my left squared his broad shoulders. "Ryou Bakura?" he demanded.

I just gawked at him, unable to answer. Whatever Yami had done, there must have been someone present at the crime scene who had knowledge of me; otherwise, how would the police have known my name? I saw the other two men shift slightly, doing little to conceal that their fingers were inching towards their truncheon clubs. I turned my attention back to the inquiring officer, my mouth dry. "Yes?" I answered obediently.

No sooner had I spoken, they muscled their way into the foyer, instigating me to hastily back into the living room. "We need to take you to the Marylebone police station for questioning," the youngest officer said with something akin to repulsion polluting his features.

"For what? What's he done now?" I griped, not caring that the latter sounded insane.

"For the assault and rape of Angela Collins."

It took a full five seconds for his statement to register in my reeling brain. I slowly turned towards him as a crippling paralysis slid through my limbs. "What?" I remember whispering.

"You heard what he said," the middle officer responded. "Now, if you'd cooperate…."

"No," I breathed, not having anything to do with his request. _This isn't happening,_ I thought. _Angela couldn't have been raped…._"No," I cried more forcefully, feeling as though I'd pass out.

The young officer caught me under the arms just as my knees gave way. "No! This can't be real!" I gasped, my body and mind slipping into a state of oblivion. I'd just seen her yesterday and she'd been so happy….

I cracked my eyes as a hideous realization awoke within me like a mad beast. "You didn't, Yami," I spat toxically. "You were the one who raped her!" In an adrenalin rage, I shot up, knocking the policeman to his feet. "I'll kill you, son of a bitch!" I snarled, ripping the leather cord from my neck and feverishly attempting to snap the Ring in two. Alas, my efforts aborted as the officers tackled me. My instincts were in complete control as I howled and eccentrically tore at them to escape. Despite my shot at protest, they quickly restrained me and hauled me outside by my arms and legs. "I didn't do anything! I swear!" I screamed despairingly, my pleads ringing down the narrow street, summoning a handful of inquisitive neighbors from their flats to spy on the spectacle.

The men pushed me into the rear of the patrol car and slammed the door. My brief rush of hormonal insanity passed, I slouched heavily on the seat and wept inconsolably. How could the thief had done such a heinous thing to her? My organs suddenly twisted in a petrified knot. _If he's a calloused monster with me, God knows what he did to her?_ I raked my fingers fiercely down my scalp, poorly squelching the revolting thoughts that tore at every fiber of my mental well-being. Was she even still alive? Like an unwelcome stranger, Yami's superficially irrelevant words from the day before clawed their way out from my thoughts:

"_My temporary form wouldn't survive long enough to even locate her in this city. I'd need… a stable body for that." _

And he'd found his stable body: mine.

I moaned through my clenched teeth. I didn't want to think – I didn't want to live. "I'm so sorry Angela – please forgive me," I whimpered chokingly, hating myself.

The officers took their seats in the car and we headed towards the heart of London, the Ring completely missed by me.

---

The interrogation office at the Marylebone Metropolitan Police station was a location I never thought I'd chance upon. Whilst being escorted to the room I witnessed clusterings of unsavory ruffians being fingerprinted for socially unacceptable crimes they'd indulged in. _How lucky they must be though,_ I thought. _At least they remember what crimes they've committed. _

And now, I sat in the stiflingly muggy room, awaiting the arrival of the interrogator. However, this was the least of my worries; all I could think of was Angela… and what Yami had potentially done to her.

No… what _I'd_ done to her.

The twisting of the door's knob arrested my attention. A man sporting a rumpled suit and unkempt hair entered. "Hello, my name is Inspector Carter. You must be Ryou Bakura," he smiled, extending his hand.

I gave him an impartial handshake, dare not looking him in the eye.

"Your name's Japanese, correct? Oh, my simply wife adores Japan," he rambled. "She's collected all sorts of fancy tea sets decorated with dragon designs and what not. Incidentally, we're planning on traveling to Japan for holiday this autumn."

I barely inclined my head in response, not buying his clearly imitated congeniality for a second.

The three officers who had apprehended me silently came in the room like wraiths and closed the door.

Inspector Carter pulled a chair out and sat opposite me, his ersatz smile dangerous. "Can you take a gander as to how many people are in London, Ryou?"

This random question threw me off entirely. What the ruddy hell did that have to do with? Instead of sidestepping, I complied. "About ten million."

"Yes. London is the most populated city on Earth - it's a very vibrant city with so many things occurring at any given time. Do you know what occurred just last night?" he asked with bright eyes.

_Of course, you blithering idiot,_ I thought, but I kept my face stony.

He leaned back and tented his fingers. "At around 9:38 pm, a girl named Angela Collins was attacked and brutally raped in an alley off Aldford Street, not all that far from here."

I repressed the blubbering aiming to leave me by rubbing my shuddering hand over my forehead.

"Do you know why you're here, Ryou?"

"Let me guess," I answered soullessly through pale lips.

Carter's smile diminished and he eyed me acridly. "Angela named you as her assaulter."

None of this seemed plausible. I knew in my heart that I'd committed the crime, but only because Yami had possessed my body. I'd have never laid a finger on her otherwise. But the nonce demanded an answer, so I gave him one. "I wouldn't have done that," I equivocated, choosing my words carefully. And that's the truth – I wouldn't have, given the choice.

He set his face, studying me coldly. In the austere silence I became aware of the slightest sounds, namely my fluttering heart.

"What were you doing last night at 9:38, Bakura?" he asked after a length.

My mouth had dried out completely as I truthfully answered, "I… I don't remember."

Carter deftly nodded to the youngest officer, who slapped a file on the table. "Is that so?" The inspector rummaged through the folder and extracted a stack of paper- clipped photographs. "Well, maybe these will jog your memory," and he spread them in front of me.

A rash of dry sobs erupted from me when I recognized the mangled girl in the pictures as Angela. Oh dear God! She looked like an angel struck down from the heavens! The milky hospital gown's delicate appearance offset the harsh, purple strokes of brutality's palette. Her lower lip was puffy from a jagged split, and swollen, magenta bruises ravaged her cheek and jaw. She lay with her eyes closed, and her stringy hair plastered her bluish, waxy skin.

A fragile, beautiful creature… destroyed.

Defiled.

Contaminated.

And it was all my doing.

In the stale air, I reached my trembling fingers towards the shattered visage, confident that I could console her in reality with my touch.

However, Carter snatched the pictures away. "These photos are evidence. Sorry, you can't touch them." He stuffed them in the packet and returned it. Bringing his focus on me once more, he crossed his arms. "Well?"

I swallowed. "I wouldn't have done that," I timorously reiterated, though I knew the answer was ultimately inconsequential. 

"Mm-hmm," he deliberated. Straight off, he pointed at my bandaged cheek. "Where'd you get that cut?"

My eyes grew round as I understood his implication. _That's_ how I'd received the graze – Angela had scratched me, or Yami actually, in self defense.

"Based on your expression Bakura you've overcome your memory lapse," he smiled overconfidently. "Miss Collins said that right after you forced her to the ground at knifepoint she fought back and abraded your cheek with her nails. Regrettably, she said this triggered you to strike her."

Tears began collecting on my lashes. How could I have done this to her? Why didn't I fight to keep from blacking out?

"She also said she's known you since you were both twelve." He leaned in, eyeing me with pure hatred. "Has this always been a sick fantasy you'd been harboring since then? To gain the poor girl's trust by taking her on a romantic stroll through Kensington Gardens, and then conclude the get-together by leading her to a grimy alley and forcing yourself on her?"

"No!" I hollered at long last. His techniques were working quite effectively at breaking me down.

"Then why did you do it?!"

"I told you, I wouldn't!" I bayed as insanity threatened to devour me. I couldn't endure for much longer.

He slammed his fist on the table. "Don't lie, Bakura! It's useless!"

"I wouldn't… I wouldn't…" I moaned piteously, my head drooping. "I wouldn't…."

He smugly shot his eyes towards his comrades and jeered, "I've noticed you keep saying 'I wouldn't'. If you're innocent, why can't you state, 'I didn't'? It truly is boggling…" he pointed out sarcastically.

Witnessing this man in action made it clear as to why he was the lead interrogator at the station – his skills at observing were exemplary, to my dismay. How could I say "I didn't" when I very well knew that, in fact, I had?

"It's pointless to keep circumventing the truth," he stated flatly, leaning across the table towards me as he moved in for the kill.

I lifted my eyes blearily. "Why are you doing this to me? It's inhumane!"

He held up his hands defensively. "I'm merely basing this on what Miss Collins told me. We all just want an answer. We were up late last night recording her statement – we're tired." His countenance deadpanned. "Of course, you're probably fatigued yourself. Holding down a thrashing woman whilst you're raping her is very taxing, I can imagine." He shook his head. "No, Mr. Bakura – what you did to Angela was inhumane."

For a split second I was inclined to lunge across the table and rip his supercilious lips off his face, but I disarmed the urge forthwith. Right then my resolve to defend my character deteriorated. There was no confuting it – they had me cornered. My arms hung limply at my sides, and all I could utter was, "Will she recover soon?"

Carter's face hardened alarmingly at my words. "Based on what happened to her I seriously don't know. The poor thing's going to be traumatized for life, at the least." He narrowed his eyes sharply. "Don't tell me you're concerned for her now, because I know it's a cowardly farce on your part! From Miss Collin's account, your exploits last night prove you don't give a crap about her!"

I held back my words, causing stinging tears to regorge instead.

He remained for a moment longer, scrutinizing me, before gesturing to the officers to follow him outside the room, leaving me to the mercy of my unforgiving guilt.

No sooner had they shut the door after themselves, I smothered my face in my arms and wept. Why did the spirit do such a monstrous thing to a lovely person? He had not one fucking reason. I tilted my head to glance my chest, but only discovered that I wasn't currently donning the Ring. "It's a good thing you're nowhere around, Yami," I growled, "otherwise, I'd tear you limb from limb…."

My breath caught with mortifying comprehension when the recollections of my dreams from the night before swam unbidden past my mind's eye. That part about the girl crying hadn't been a reverie…

…I'd heard Angela from within the confines of my mental prison whilst the tomb robber had manipulated my body.

I felt nauseous as grievance grated against my soul. How could I have let this transpire? I should have done something to prevent it, yet I was fully aware that it was a hope that held no weight, for what could I've done? Resisted Yami? Fought to keep conscious? I had attempted measures as absurd as those in the past but he'd always been victorious, and afterwards he'd beat me to a pulp to convey his displeasure towards my insubordination.

The only way I could defeat his reign of me, I had speculated countless times before, was if I died.

My mulling ceased when Carter, accompanied by the trio, re-entered the room with predatory vigor. "Ryou Bakura," he stated authoritatively, "I'm placing you under arrest for suspicion of the assault and rape of Angela Collins."

I'd known it was coming, but my shock wasn't buffered, nonetheless. "No… it wasn't me," I tenuously beswore.

"You can sit in that chair and deny it all day long, but it won't behoove you. Angela is adamant that you were the man who attacked her." One of the constables grabbed my arm and hauled me up as Carter banged on. "You'll be arraigned today at the Magistrate's Court. In the event this is escalated to the Crown Court, we're going to keep you incarcerated until that time."

_This isn't happening!_ I surmised hysterically as he read me my Miranda Rights. Why the hell was I the scapegoat for Yami's crime? It was then that my over-worked brain dug up a solution. "Wait! I know I'm allowed a phone call before you can lock me away!"

I sensed Carter's oscillation. "Unfortunately, you are," he conceded begrudgingly.

"Fine! I need to call someone and tell him that I'm going to need to be bailed."

He nodded approval to the officer holding me captive, who then chaperoned me into the hallway. "All right, Bakura – you make your phone call to whomever you think is going to bail you," Cater heckled as we entered a small office with a payphone installed in the wall. "Keep it quick."

The officer relinquished me and I walked to the phone in an ethereal fog, unwilling to believe that any of this turmoil was transpiring. I'd always strove to be an upstanding example of social acceptability, but Yami had finally found a way to make my efforts all for naught. The only thing I could see was that searing image of my dear Angela, torn and defiled; a product I'd begot when I'd had no mind or will. I only prayed that her other injuries were less severe….

Grabbing the scummy receiver, I brought it to my ear, all too aware that the four men stood close by. Taking a steadying breath, I resigned myself that I needed Dad's help.

I dialed his direct extension at the British Museum, where he undoubtedly was currently. My heart pattered as I punched in the number, and I closed my eyes as the connection went through. How would I deliver the news of my crisis? Would he pay the as-yet undetermined bail amount? I battled the acid lurching up my esophagus triggered by these reckonings, when I became alarmed by the number of times the phone had rung. This was the eighth ring – why wasn't my father answering? If I disconnected the call, the police wouldn't allow me to make another….

To my relief, someone answered. "Dr. Hiro Bakura's office; this is James Thatcher speaking."

"James!" I cried, recognizing him as a colleague of Dad's. "This is Ryou, Hiro's son."

"Oh yes. How are you, Ryou? Has your arm healed yet?"

"Yes, it has," I curtly answered. "I need to speak with my father – it's urgent."

"Hiro? I'm afraid that's not possible –"

"I've been arrested!" I blurted automatically to his objection.

"Arrested? For what?"

I squeezed my eyes and granted the repellent word passage through my lips. "Rape. But I didn't do it!" I sensed Carter shift irritably behind me, but I didn't look back at him. "I need Dad to pay my bond."

There was a pause on his end, when, "I'm sorry, but he's not here. He flew to Egypt just last night. Did he not tell you?"

The receiver nearly slipped from my hand. "Egypt?! Why's he there?"

"Well, yesterday some additional artifacts were uncovered at the Teknusabet site and he was sent to catalogue them. I'll be traveling down there later today, myself."

His words muffled in my brain, for something occurred to me right then and there: my lucid dream about Dad preparing to leave for Egypt the night before. Had it been a premonition? However, I still didn't understand the significance regarding the bits when he'd been bandaged in the mummy wrappings and I'd spoken that peculiar language.

"Ryou? I said you should try calling him on his cell phone," James said, jostling me back to reality.

"Huh? Oh, sorry – I didn't hear you the first time," I muttered. "But I can't dial him – I'm going to be taken away as soon as I hang up with you!"

The sound of him rifling through what sounded like a drawer followed. "Um… listen - I'll try calling him and notify him that he needs to speak with you right away. What's the telephone number there?"

I peered around, hoping that the station's phone number was posted in a conspicuous area, but no luck. "I don't know, but it's the Marylebone Metropolitan Police station," I said in a rattled voice.

"That's sufficient enough," he answered, assumably jotting down the information. "After I disconnect with you I'll dial Hiro."

I exhaled shakily, albeit I was calmed marginally. "You're doing me a tremendous favor, James. Thank you."

"It's the least I can do, unfortunately," and he hung up, leaving me to the officers.

Carter wasted no time brutishly escorting me out of the room. "The outcome of your conversation didn't sound all that promising for you, Bakura," he sneered, pinning my arms behind my back with bombastic glee.

I trudged forward, hoping against all hopes that that was merely his opinion.

---

The remainder of the afternoon was, minimally put, a demeaning hell. After my attempt to phone Dad, I was fingerprinted, issued a criminal number and photographed – I'd never been so humiliated in my life! Thereafter, I was taken before a magistrate judge at a nearby Magistrate's courthouse. After listening to the charges, allthewhile eyeballing me loathingly, he set the bail at an exorbitant amount: £10,000. I almost pissed myself when he announced the price, knowing Dad would never pay it.

When we returned to the station, no calls had come in for me as of yet, despite the fact that it'd been five hours since I'd spoken to James, and the officers avidly imprisoned me in a cell. To my great relief, I was the only person in there, patent evidence that London had a low crime rate.

And so I sat, the atrocious speculations of everything I'd done to Angela my only companionship. "She hates me," I murmured into my knees miserably. "I should've ignored her yesterday. If I had, that conniving bastard wouldn't have plotted anything." I tried not to imagine her bloodied in that alleyway, begging and weeping as I viciously pumped my body against hers….

I startled when a guard stepped before the cell and proceeded to unlock the door. "You have a phone call," he plainly stated, swinging it open.

I rose tentatively, aware of what I was about to sustain by speaking with my father. The guard led me to a room with a telephone on a laminated desk. "Line two," he said before stepping out.

Trepidation burrowed like worms through my flesh as I regarded the phone. How would he react? Calling upon my milk toast courage, I lifted the receiver. "Dad?"

"What happened, Ryou?" came his deadpan reply.

His salutation wasn't favoring; however, I went ahead and informed him. "The police are accusing me of raping Angela Collins. I'm to attend the Crown Court next Friday-"

"Angela? That girl Cynthia always said you always fawned over?" he interrupted.

"Yeah," I replied, realizing this was not the time to act embarrassed. "I can't stay in here for seven days – I'll go mad!"

"Did they issue bail for you?" he quietly asked.

I cringed. "Yes. But that's what I wanted to explain-"

"How much?"

My heart rate accelerated as I spat it out. "£10,000."

Though two-thousand miles separated us, it was as awful as if he were in the same room. His silence was torturous, and I waited with baited breath for acknowledgement of any kind. "D-Dad, are you there?" I humbly asked.

"Ryou, listen carefully: I'm going to wire the funds to the station. After you're released, I don't want you to leave the flat. You are not to answer the door nor make any phone calls. Do you understand?"

His cryptic instructions chilled me. "I understand."

"I have a friend in London who's a barrister – he'll straighten this out." Letting out a shaky breath, he added, "I'll accompany you to your trial," and he began to hang up.

"Wait!" I exclaimed, afraid that it was too late to stop him.

"What?"

I licked my lips. "You know I would never do anything like this, right Dad? You believe me, don't you?"

Alas, the only response I got was the _click_ of the phone receiver.

---

As promised, my father sent the bail bond, and within one hour I was free to leave. Carter was not pleased with this at all, yet he was mindful that he couldn't object to the force's policies and procedures otherwise. 

I had to walk back to the apartment, as the police were not keen on chauffeuring a suspected criminal around the city. The whole while, Yami's words from earlier that morning taunted me restlessly:

_"I think you should be questioning yourself. After all, it was your body that committed the crime."_

I gritted my teeth, nearly shattering my molars. "You fucking jaffa," I seethed, wishing that I had the audacity to say it to his face.

---

When I arrived at the flat, I unlocked the door and stormed in. "Where are you?!" I screamed, peering about for my other half.

"Well, well, look who's returned from his jaunt with the law," came his voice from behind me.

I whirled back and found him lounged on the couch, lackadaisically thumbing through a picture book of Egypt.

"How could you?" I gnarled caustically, my fingers itching to strangle him.

He pushed the book aside and regarded me with his spiteful, ebony eyes. "How could I what? Help you finally lose your virginity, Aibou? I allowed you to taste woman – you should be on your hands and knees thanking me."

I was disgusted by his sick justifications of his transgression. "Don't you dare rationalize this, asshole! You didn't help me, as you so cunningly claim – you weren't advising me with what I should say to her or act in her presence; you flat out presided over me and attacked her!"

"Don't push me, Ryou," he said with a slight edge in his voice.

His rising ire had no effect on me, though. "How were you able to find her?" I intoned lowly.

A harsh laugh seeped through his manic grin. "The directions to her apartment are ingrained in your brain like a map! I simply retraced the path you had established mentally."

Shit! I'd forgotten that he had access to every innermost thought I carried.

Bored, he examined his fingernails. "Of course, you do very well know that, if you wanted to, you could've stopped me?"

I became dead serious. "Don't play me for a fool, Yami. You know I lose all will when you're controlling me."

"On the contrary," he stated coolly, propping his legs upon the coffee table. "Remember shortly after you began attending Domino high school I challenged those twits to a match of that juvenile Monster World game? If I recall, you broke through my mental restraints and were able to articulate your left hand, despite that I manipulated the remainder of your form. And even after that event, there were many occasions where you were able to free yourself from your soul room and regain complete management of your body. Look what happened on the jet trip over here."

He was right – the experience during that Monster World game those years back was the first instance in which I freed myself from his grasp. Moreover, when I'd sought him out and found the unknown room whilst on the plane, he'd been pilfering that wallet, yet I overpowered his domination. There were those other times, too:

During the Battle City Finals on Kaiba's dirigible…

…that Duel Monsters Shadow Game Yami had initiated with the pharaoh during the Duelist Kingdom tournament…

…when I disturbed his butchering of my arms…

…and about half a dozen happenings in the past year. I had gathered it was because he was slacking off, thus empowering me to resume control of my shell.

"I can't blame you for not desiring to intercept the rape, though," he said, disrupting my gleaning of my past circumstances of escape from him.

"Wh-what do you mean, 'not desiring'?!" I demanded, though the seeds of dubiousness were already sprouting in my mind and sucking my certainty dry.

He threw his head back and barked a laugh, as though I should have known the answer. "You really don't recollect your previous life, do you? You were notorious for raping women, boy – it was one of our favorite past times! Easy of belief, you were thrilled subconsciously last night about the prospect of despoiling Angela, yet are too innocuous consciously to fulfil the act; so you endorsed me to do it for you vicariously." He draped his arms over the back of the couch. "Your body enjoyed it incalculably, and I'm sure you did, as well. I know I did."

Every cell in me bristled, but I was equally terrified to no ends due to Yami's observation.

_Could_ I have truly stopped him from possessing me the night before?

_No… he's lying,_ I told myself, casting my uncertainties aside.

My pent-up anger melted into despair, and I fell victim to it by wilting to my knees. "Why?! Why'd you do it?! Angela's such a wonderful girl!" I sobbed hoarsely.

"Oh, spare me the crocodile tears. You were gagging for it – don't deny it," he said, lifting himself off the couch.

I glared at him sharply. "What the naffing fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"I've been in your thoughts innumerable times and I've seen what you'd always longed to do with her… I know you'd hankered to feel your flesh against hers… inside hers," he whispered seductively.

"I didn't want to rape her, though!" I cried, withering to my guilt.

"Please! It's all the same!" he flouted.

I flew to my feet in a rage. "No it's not! You might think that in your perverse mind because you disrespect all humans and never cared for anyone in your deplorable life, but I can assure you there is a major difference between rape and love!"

Before I could react, he struck me brutally in the face, causing me to hobble backwards. He stalked towards me, his eyes blazing madly. "Never, _ever_ say that again, you piece of filth! If you do, I'll cut your tongue out and force-feed it back to you!"

I blinked, completely knocked for six. Why'd he react so strongly to what I'd said?

He thrust his finger at me. "You should show a bit more gratitude towards me, Vessel – I _did_ allow the girl to live, after all." He shouldered past me, wincing as he cradled his cheek. "I was damn near close to killing her, but I deemed she should continue living, so I granted her mercy. I was very generous considering, seeing as that little bitch scratched me." A smirk then ripened on his lips. "Of course, that probably isn't a boon for you; after my act, she'll never forget what Ryou Bakura did to her."

My sanity slipped as soon as his words left his mouth. Without thinking, I lunged at him, my fingers curled tightly into a fist, intending to knock his teeth loose. However, my velocity dulled in comparison to his, and he nimbly whipped around and hurled me against the closest wall.

I lay sprawled on the floor, my ears ringing. Before I could gather my bearings, he jerked me up by my shirtfront. "How dare you raise a hand to me?!" He looked as though he was ready to slaughter me, when he grinned. "I suppose I truly assisted you last night. Forget that Wheeler punk's hack job video – I helped you overcome the toughest hurdle…" he then leaned close and whispered, "… with the girl you love." And before I could retaliate, before I could fully notice that his cheek was a stinging shade of red, he belted me square in the forehead, turning my world black and silent. 

---

One who keeps his word, I didn't stray from the apartment or converse with the outside world for the next six days. I spent the week locked in my room, only leaving to use the toilet or to get water. I ate very little during that time, as I had no appetite whatsoever. For hours on end I would blankly gaze down on Queen's Gate Street from my window, fantasizing about what it would be like to have an ordinary life. The happy conversations from the pedestrians below drifted through the warm air, though their joy never penetrated my fractured heart.

Yami wasn't helping matters much, either. His punching my face left a ghastly, indigo bruise shadowing my forehead and around my eyes, a physical reminder that I'd lost against him at trying to avenge Angela. Not only that, at any given time he'd appear and shame me mercilessly for what I had done to Angela, and as I'd fitfully fall asleep at night he'd speak through our mind-link and drop subtle reminders as to what a monster I was. It became so detrimental that at one point I actually wondered if I had raped her by my freewill and simply blacked out the instance….

Finally, when Friday arrived Yami's torture settled, yet was superseded with a fresh one: the Crown Court Trial. I was a right mental wreck that afternoon as my delegated hearing raced ever closer, and aside from wondering whether or not I'd be a free man following that day, another aspect plagued me…

…Angela was going to be at the trial, and I'd have to face her.

It was around 4:00 pm when Dad arrived at the flat. I felt overwhelmingly light-headed as I watched him park his car against the curb, realizing that he not only had to abandon his duties in Egypt, but he probably didn't have faith in my innocence.

I sat on the couch, abashedly hanging my head when he entered, awaiting the ineluctable blitz. I cringed when I heard his footsteps halt and held my breath.

"We need to leave now if we want to get to the courthouse on time," was, thankfully, all that he spoke.

I dolefully obliged and headed to the car without delay.

---

The drive to the courthouse was thirty-five minutes of ulcer-inducing anxiety. Dad remained solemnly hushed for the entire time, prompting me to curtail the sound of my breathing as much as possible. I expected that if I somehow broke the silence he'd abandon his somewhat civil deportment and fly into a fit of rampaging.

When we arrived, Dad escorted me up the steps of the establishment. I'm glad he did this; otherwise, I would have never left the sanctuary of the automobile and run the risk of getting arrested for skipping my trial. My thoughts were jumbled as I maundered forward through the massive double doors. What would be the outcome of my hearing? What if I botched my statement?

I was so entrenched in my contemplating that I failed to notice that my father had stopped to greet a man of whom I didn't recognize. "Ryou, this is Thomas Palmer, my barrister friend I told you about," Dad offered flatly.

Thomas gave me a professional handshake. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ryou." Straightening, he quietly added, "Hiro shared with me what happened. I can understand if you're scared, but don't worry – the judge on this case is an old friend of mine who happens to owe me a favor. I guarantee this case will be dismissed after I persuade him to do so."

I goggled at him, dumbstruck. "Are… are you serious?"

He patted my shoulder and, after giving a quick wink, led us down the corridor to the courtroom.

Despite Thomas' confidence that my innocence was watertight secured, all my hope dispersed when I entered the dark, imposing chamber of British law. He instructed my father to take a seat in one of the benches at the back of the room, and then guided me to the defendant's table. I dropped heavily into the chair, still unable to process that I was on trial. Wiping the beading sweat from my forehead, I distractedly glanced to my right… and what I saw caused me unutterable distraught.

There, at the prosecutor's table, was Angela. No longer the jubilant girl I once knew, she was now muted… scarred. Though the swelling of her face had reduced, the discolorations were still visible as tawny-hued markings. Her sutured lip trembled slightly as she stared blankly at her folded hands in her lap. At that moment, her eyes caught mine, and I shamefully looked away. It had been the first time I'd seen her since we laughed and embraced the week before – how could I look her in the eye after what I'd done to her in the interval?

Suddenly, the judge entered, prompting everyone present to stand in acknowledgement. "You're going to be fine, Ryou. You can do this man, no probs," I told myself, though my quavering limbs convinced me otherwise.

After a preliminary speech from the Crown Prosecution Service, our sides had to give our statements to the court.

Angela was first.

I kept my face down as she passed me, already unprepared to stomach the idea of what she was about to reveal pertaining Yami's act.

When she settled herself in the witness chair, the prosecuting barrister asked her to state her name.

"My name is Angela Collins," proclaimed her barely audible voice.

"Can you please recount the events of the evening of the twelfth of August when you were attacked?"

I saw her eyes dart painfully to mine. "Yes," she said at last. Hugging her waist tightly, she began to evince the nightmare. "At 6:47 pm, there was a knock at the front door of my parents' apartment… where I live."

He nodded. "Please continue."

She furrowed her brow as she compulsively ran her hands over her arms. "I…I answered the door and the person outside was… was Ryou Bakura."

I shut my lids lachrymosely, for she said my name with such timidity it was as though she'd uttered something vile.

"He… he said that he wished to take me up on my offer-"

"Offer?" he asked, quirking his eyebrow.

"I'd seen him earlier that afternoon and said perhaps I'd meet him at another time," she replied softly. "Anyway, I obliged and left with him."

"Where did he take you?"

"To Kensington Gardens. He suggested that we should admire the roses before they withered."

Fury suffused through me as I imagined the scenario in her testimony. That bastard tomb robber had effortlessly won her trust with false pretenses. 

"We strolled through the park for about two hours, reminiscing about our days when we attended school together. Afterwards, he purchased an ice cream sundae from a vendor, and we shared that." She wiped her eyes. "During that time, I noticed that he had led us out of the park and we were walking along Park Lane…."

I was appalled as it systematically unfolded in my mental map of the city. First Kensington Gardens, and then Park Lane… he was leading her to the Aldford alley.

Suddenly, she dissolved into a mass of tears, the throes jarring her frail body. The sight of her so vulnerable inclined me to rush to her, but, being in a courtroom full of armed guards, I knew better. All I could do was sit helplessly as my heart was practically torn from my chest cavity – arteries, ligaments and all - with grief.

I wanted to hold her.

I wanted to smooth away her tears.

I wanted to assure her that everything would be fine…

…but I couldn't.

The barrister cleared his throat. "Miss Collins, if you wish to continue your statement later-"

She shook her head defiantly. "No. I have to do this." Gulping back her sniffles, she persevered. "W-we crossed Park Lane, and then turned down a side road. I kept asking, 'Where are we going, Ryou?' and he continually gave me the same reply."

"Which was?"

She lowered her head. "'It's a surprise – you'll see….'"

I bit my knuckle to stifle the tears leaking from my ducts. Why… why did he do this to her?

He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Were you at all alarmed that this young man was taking you down a narrow road late at night?"

She turned her mottled face up towards his. "No, I wasn't - I knew Ryou could be trusted fully… or… or so I thought."

My soul crumpled under the blow of her crushing remark. Yami's violation upon her caused her to renounce me, eradicating the cohesion we'd forged over the years.

"It was then that we started up Aldford Street when he sprinted ahead into an alleyway leading off the road," she muttered. "I was a little perplexed and tried calling him back to me, but he didn't respond. I became perturbed because immaturity isn't typical of his nature. I went to the alley entrance and yelled his name again, and this time he called out, 'I want to show you something, Angela. Come here.'"

My stomach heaved with nauseating anticipation. I wasn't prepared to hear this.

Her frame juddered as she rested her face in her palms. "I stupidly went in there. It was dim, so I couldn't find him. I-I just ventured deeper and deeper," she cried in a thin voice.

I glowered at the Ring, all too aware that the perve was relishing this.

"I called for him once more, but somebody grabbed my hair from behind. I panicked and screamed for Ryou's aid, as I believed the assailant was a stranger, but… but when I saw it was in fact him…."

"What happened next, Miss Collins?"

"I told him he was hurting me, but then he pressed a knife against my throat." She twisted her face in suffering. "He said, 'If you make so much as a sound, I'll kill you.'"

I shook my head forlornly. "I didn't…."

"He… he then shoved me to the ground, but I was able to scratch his face in self-defense."

_Of course you did,_ I thought, mindlessly brushing my fingers against the healed skin on my cheek.

"This caused him to fly in a rage. H-he called me a whore and backhanded me."

What the hell was wrong with her? Didn't she know me well enough to realize that I wasn't capable of such barbarianism?

"After that… he…" yet she failed to divulge the details and educate the courtroom as to what I'd done, for she all out wept harshly, incapable of continuing. For this, I was grateful.

The barrister stepped closer to her and softly said, "It's all right - you don't need to speak about it any more. However, may I ask one other question of you?"

She gulped and nodded.

"For the court record, is the man who attacked you present in this room?" 

She looked up, her eyes smoldering. "Yes," and with that, she pointed an accusatory finger at me like a carbon-tipped spear.

I shut my lids, my soul mortally wounded.

He whispered something condoling into her ear before mumbling to the judge. The judge nodded, and then addressed everyone there. "We will take a twenty-minute recess prior to hearing the defendant's testimony." 

I barely took notice of Thomas nonchalantly moseying towards the judge before he initiated a conversation. I simply remained rooted, not in the presence of mind to do much more.

"You could've regained control of your body," I reprimanded myself, recalling Yami's pronouncement from the week earlier. "But you didn't… and look what's become of it…." Unable to keep my sorrow at bay any longer, I smothered my face in my arms and cried.

---

After fifteen minutes, as the people filed back into the chamber, I felt somebody tap my shoulder. Wiping my puffy face, I peered up to find Thomas smiling confidently at me. "I got it all taken care of, Ryou – you're free to go."

Simultaneously, the judge re-entered and took his seat, shooting Thomas an impish smirk. "Uh… ladies and gentlemen, after due consideration, I've decided that this case be dismissed due to the prosecution's lack of substantial evidence."

A wave of murmuring swelled through the area as the sharp sound of the gavel brought the trial to an immediate end.

Angela and her barrister were not at all pleased by the riddling verdict. "Now what's the meaning of this?" he objected over the fuss of the chamber. "Of course we've sufficient evidence: my client's statement!"

"Do not question my decisions!" the judge snapped. "It is my prerogative to adjourn this case."

The barrister opened his mouth, but said nothing, and instead returned to the prosecutor's table to collect his wasted documents. Allthewhile, he continuously muttered apologies to an outraged Angela.

"Terribly sorry that you even had to endure this, Ryou," Thomas offered as he latched his briefcase. "But it all turned out positively, eh what?"

I just blinked at him, not certain if I'd heard the ruling correctly. "Is it truly over?"

"It is," he smiled, shaking my clammy hand. "I just had to remind the judge that he was still in debt to me, so he acceded to bring the case to an end." Glancing over his shoulder, he added, "I need to speak with your father for a bit, but you may leave the chamber."

I nodded briefly before he left me alone. Exhausted, I pressed my palms against my forehead, wincing from the tender mask of a bruise. If it weren't for Thomas I was certain I would have been found guilty. I laughed tiredly, immediately finding a new appreciation for bribery.

Of course, if it weren't for Yami, none of this would have even occurred, I reflected spitefully.

I remained seated for a few studious moments longer before I rose and departed the room. I was disoriented, my mind scrambled as to why any of this had to transpire. My rhetorical cogitations were terminated, however, when I heard a commotion behind me. I turned around and discovered Angela arguing with the barrister as they entered the hallway. She pushed past him and fled down the corridor.

Absolutely stricken by her wretched state, I jogged after her. "Angela! Wait!"

She spun abruptly and whitened when she saw me. "You stay away from me!" she cried, backing away.

I slowed my pace considerably and continued towards her. "Please… you've got to listen…" I said, lightly reaching to take hold of her arm.

"Don't touch me!" she shrieked, cowering before I could even place my hand on her.

I stopped in my tracks, terrified by her revulsion towards me. "Angela," I whispered, "I wasn't the one who attacked you – you've got to believe me."

She started to quiver with resentment. "How dare you say such a preposterous lie, you bastard!"

"You have to trust me…" was my only comeback.

"Oh, come on Ryou! Of course it was you! Your face was centimeters from mine during the assault!" She unexpectedly hid her face as a fresh wave of anguish flooded her eyes. "I'll never forget what you said to me right after the rape."

I didn't want to know what my subjugated form had told her, but I had to find out. "What did I say?" I mumbled deadly.

Her green eyes were venomous. "You know what you said! Or do you just want to hear it again for a cheap thrill?"

"Tell me."

She set her tremulous jaw, unable to look at me. "You rested your hand on my throat when you were still on top of me. You said, 'You're so beautiful, but you would be far more beautiful with a broken neck.'"

My eyes burned with sickening grief. "It wasn't me," I foreswore.

"Then you tell me who it was! This man resembled you entirely and had knowledge of things only you'd know!"

My chin trembled as I squeezed my eyes with regret. "I… I can't tell you, Angela," I whispered tristfully. "I'm sorry…."

She stared at me, nonplussed, as the amassing tears dripped off her chin. "Are you schizophrenic?" she breathed. "Is that the reason you came to England for medical purposes?"

I had to stifle the twinge of anger that rippled through me due to her outlandish question. "No, it's not. There's something wrong with my endocrine system – that's why I'm here."

Her expression became that of bitter pity, yet she said nothing.

Gathering my nerves, I took a step towards her. She flinched, but I said, "Please don't – it's all right." Sighing, I opened up to her. "Listen to me: I would never, _ever_ want to bring any harm to you. You… you mean too much to me to describe." Without thinking, I caressed her damp cheek, realizing that the damage was far too irreparable for the next words to matter. "I… I love you, Angela."

She closed her eyelids heavily as she allowed me to touch her. After a moment, she rested her hand on mine. "Is that why you raped me?" she asked quietly as she pulled my hand from her face.

My brow was fraught with raw lament. "I told you, I didn't. Do I honestly seem like a rapist?"

She regarded me in the cutting silence, slowly shaking her head. "I'm not certain what to think anymore."

"I'm begging you to believe me."

"Then who was it?"

I knew that my reasoning with her would be futile, so I gave my hopeless answer: "You wouldn't understand. If I told you my explanation, you'd think I was a lunatic."

She considered my reply, nodding with sullen intuitiveness. Finally, she locked her gaze intently on mine. "Goodbye, Ryou. I'd always assumed that you were a kind-hearted, caring person… but I was gravely mistaken."

I shook my head as a drowning void imploded within me, and all I could utter was, "Don't, Angela… please…."

But she ignored my groveling. "I hope you can't sleep at night knowing what you've done to me." With that, an uncontainable surge of grief erupted from her and she escaped down the hall, running blindly past groups of people.

I started to pursue her, but I stopped. What good would it do when I at last caught up to her? I watched, powerless, as she turned the corner… and like that, she was gone – from my sight and my life.

A lifeless desolation, not unlike the same I experienced when my sister and mother were snatched from my existence, consumed me. "Don't abandon me, Angela," I whimpered, my fingers reaching for her, yet I was well aware that I'd never bring her back. "You're the only person I have left."

I sensed someone approach from behind, and when I turned, I saw it was Dad. "Get in the car this instant," he growled lowly through barely-moving lips.

Without hesitation, I obeyed, wanting nothing more than to put the nightmare of the past week behind me.

However, the horrors that had transpired would pale in comparison to what would happen later that night.

The night when the perilous situation I had predicted back in Domino would at last come to fruition.

The worst night of my entire life.

-------------------------------

Well, that was chapter 5. Was it depressing enough for you? 

Yes, that chamber with the heads in the London Dungeon is creepy. When you first enter, your nose is hit with a rotten, moldy stench (don't ask me what it is – I don't think I want to find out :P). Then, right after you walk in you see the heads, all putrefied and lovely, the skin decomposing and slipping off the bones with rot (they're fake) skewered on poles. What's most awful about it is they line one side of the narrow path on which you're supposed to travel - you can literally touch them because they're so close! When I first went in the chamber and saw the heads, noticing the reek simultaneously, I got light-headed as though I was going to faint! (Reminiscent look in eyes) Ah… it was a pleasant place. But seriously, it's fun!

Okay, here are two paragraphs of RyouXBakura yaoi:

_Bakura's hand snaked down Ryou's quivering body, finally sliding into the boy's pants. "I want to show my deepest gratitude to you for allowing me residence in your body, Ryou," he breathed into his ear, his hand grabbing the engorged member. "I desire nothing more than to pleasure you."_

_Ryou leaned into the touch as he kneaded his lips against the other's face. He wanted this… _needed_ this. "Yami," he moaned, submitting entirely to his other half…._

DRD: Ta-dah!

Ryou: WHAT THE HELL WAS _THAT_?!

DRD: A sliver of yaoi with you and Yami no Bakura! I just came up with it. X3

Ryou: I would NEVER do that with him! And I sure as fuck wouldn't moan his name! (crosses arms and sulks)

Yami no Bakura: Yes… you usually _groan_ my name when I do that to you, Ryou. ;)

Ryou:. D-don't lie, Yami! (turns to reader) Don't listen to him – he's daft!

Yami no: (Playfully pouts) Aww… do you call what we did last night "lying"? (starts unbuttoning Ryou's shirt)

Ryou: (face flushed) I-I don't know what you're babbling about. And don't touch me! (slaps other's hands away)

Yami no: Ooo… I like feisty uke! (tackles Ryou and begins undressing him)

Ryou: Eep!

DRD: Ahh, love is in the air. X333

_  
_Anyway, there are only two chapters remaining after this. I'll try to get the next one up soon. Reviews please:)

And if you thought this chapter was angsty, you haven't seen anything yet! Cheers until then:D


	6. Realization

Hello once again! Well, it's time for chapter six to be posted! This one has broken the previous chapters for length, coming in at thirty pages! 8O  
This chapter, aptly entitled _Realization_, answers many, many questions, and most of the clues I've been discreetly placing throughout the tale will become apparent. It might help to go back to the previous chapters and re-read them.  
I hope this chapter will leave readers absolutely shocked. It definitely has its share of major angst, excessive violence and gore.

FYI: "mau" is the ancient Egyptian word for "cat."

And now, chapter six. Please read it and review! Thanks!

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh.

_Realization_

-------

Darkness had smothered the sky like an oppressive blanket when we returned home. Upon entering, Dad automatically indicated the living room table. "Sit down."

"Dad, I –"

"Now!"

I sheepishly obeyed and slid into the chair, trying to make myself as small as possible. I could hear the blood pulsing against my eardrums as I waited in the maddening silence. I saw Dad out of my peripheral vision, but I dared not make eye contact.

"What is wrong with you, Ryou?" he asked at length. "Well?!"

I didn't know how to answer and instead gazed at my sneakers.

He came to a stand in front of me, compulsively running his fingers through his hair. "I..." he faltered, burying his face in his hand. "I just don't know how to make you happy," his muffled voice stated.

I barely paid any attention to him, as my mind was in a swirling stupor from this whole ordeal. I could only will myself to take steadying inhalations through my nose.

"I understand that you're on edge because, as far as we know, you have a condition that no physician has been able to diagnose." He shut his browbeaten eyes, thoroughly disgusted. "I've tried to be fair and dismiss your actions and insolence of late as your normal way of coping with the stress." He then bitterly added, "That is, if you consider resorting to self-mutilation and being even more withdrawn normal."

I tightened my jaw with resentment.

He gaped at me, fright emanating from his waxy face. "But rape?"

I breathed shakily into my knuckles, praying that I'd awaken from this nightmare.

"You do realize you've committed a felony? You do realize that if the judge hadn't adjourned the trial you would be a criminal?" He flew towards me, his terrified features centimeters from mine. "Don't you?!"

I quivered, unable to speak any logical rebuttal.

"Are you on drugs?"

"No!" I boomed.

He ambled towards the window. "Rape is a despicable, vile crime, and I deem it just as detestable as murder." He surveyed the darkened street with deaden eyes, the rumble of thunder low in the distance. "I can't believe you've done this, Ryou; and especially to that poor girl, Angela. I thought… I thought you cared for her."

"I do care for her!" I burst, my mental turmoil finally exacerbated. "Actually, I… I love her… and I would never try to bring her any harm!" I hollered the final part as though I was corroborating this with my doubting mind. After all, Yami was the perpetrator and my body had been the instrument… right? I hastily warded off the thief's mention that I'd allowed the assault to transpire from a week earlier that was now muscling its way forth in my mind.

He stared at me, gobsmacked. "You love her? I certainly can't see how, not with those pictures Thomas showed me displaying the injuries you gave her!" he shouted in a raising voice. "I trust you're sensible enough to realize that rape is not a sign of affection!"

"Don't you patronize me," I warned.

"Why do you keep denying it?!" he bellowed, his face flushing an alarming shade of fuchsia. "Angela named you as the assailant and all of the clues that were given point… to… you!"

I'd never seen him this agitated, and it was frightening.

He bobbed his head pensively, when he spoke, "Doushite?"

Stinging bile churned in my gut. Whenever he conversed with me in Japanese, I knew he was raging. "I didn't-"

"Doushite?!"

I winced. "Iie watashi."

"Usotsuki!" he roared.

"Don't you dare call me a liar!" I shrieked, abruptly standing. "I wouldn't do something like that to her and you dirty well know it!"

His expression hardened. "All right… who did then?"

I was a hair's width from spilling the truth about Yami, but I refrained.

He laughed humorously, sinking on the windowsill. "Your friends' rotten influences have at long last rubbed off on you."

"Bollocks to that!" I snarled.

"Oh, open your eyes, Ryou! Those boys are absolute punks! The pair… what are their names… Joey and Tristan were constantly being suspended from school! Do you remember what the headmaster at Domino advised when I registered you? He said, 'Stay away from those two – they're delinquents!' And now…now my impressionable son has stooped so low and joined their ranks."

"How dare you insult my friends?!" I bristled, my body quaking with tingling rage. "Those blokes are what true support is all about! They always have time for me, they always are there for me! Hell, they're aware of a predicament I've never told you about! They're never too preoccupied with Egyptology or excavations that are inconsequential to the world outside archaeology!" I deftly crossed the area, less than a meter from him. "I've craved to say these words, and now I feel is an appropriate time to do so, Hiro: you are an inept father!"

I'm surprised he didn't strike me. Instead, he tottered back, and his shoulders sank. "I'm an inept father, am I?" he asked stalely. "Is that why I work eighteen-hour days like an animal to bring home livable wages?" He picked up an obsidian figurine of an ox off the table. "Is that… is that why I buy you high end clothing and luxuries, you snot-nosed ingrate?!" He lobbed the statuette my way and it smashed against the wall behind me.

"Son of a bitch!" I shrieked in shock. "Are you trying to kill me?!"

"I made certain you never wanted for anything in your life, Ryou! Can you even grasp how expensive the monthly payments are on this property? They're extravagant!"

"Oh, stop playing me like a harp! I know you and Mum paid off the mortgage on this place long ago!"

"I'm not talking about the mortgage!" he roared, pacing. "I'm meaning the utilities and taxes. I endure them to ensure you'll have a decent home away from Japan!"

"No you don't… you've kept the flat because it's near the museum – you said so yourself back in July."

He didn't retort.

The momentary interval from the row cleared my head. "There is something you've never provided me. Something instrumental."

He laughed deadpan. "Don't say it."

"Do you know what I'm lacking? It's love, Dad. Sure, you've given me objects and fancies, but never what I needed the most. You can't purchase love – not for any price."

"Please! Don't be saying something so camp. Of course I gave you love! I loved every member of this family!"

"No you didn't! You _never_ gave me affection!"

"Yes I di-"

"The only thing you gave me was the knowledge of how to differentiate the art styles of the Amarna and Ramessids' periods." My eyes welled, yet I remained poised with fortitude. "If for remarkable reasons I'm ever quizzed on ancient Egyptian middle kingdom art, I will thank you for arming me with that erudition. However," my eyes smoldered with defiance, "I'm not an Egyptologist, and I never plan on being one, so stop imposing your archeological drivel upon me!"

He looked at me scornfully for a moment longer. "So… I'm negligent. Is that why I insisted to the expedition leader that I needed to be with my son for his Crown Court trial, and because of that, I was dismissed indefinitely from the Teknusabet work?" He bit his lower lip as tears flowed down his tired face. "Is it because I'm so inept?"

My acrimony subdued as this news struck me like lightening. "Y-you were sacked from Teknusabet?"

"I didn't want to tell you." He passed by me and lowered himself with shaky legs onto one of the table's chairs. "After James called me and I wired over your bail money I pleaded with my supervisor that it was crucial I be with you in the following week. And he said, 'Hiro, we've recently unearthed an extraordinary find and it's expedient you remain. If you leave,'" he pursed his lips ruefully, "'then I'm going to have to release you from this excavation.'" He stared blankly at the wall, flexing his hand. "I knew I had to help my child, and I sacrificed my career for it… because I'm so inept as a parent," he concluded bluntly.

I presently felt very guilty for what my sharp tongue had unleashed moments before. "I'm… sorry," I mumbled, my remorse a combination of the regret of my actions and for his loss.

"Oh, of course this is what you've pined for from the get-go: for me to stop working on the assignment."

Straight away, I felt like an opened book, unable to conceal the secret from him. "What are you talking about?" I dug, trusting that ignorance was my best ally.

"Don't insult my intelligence!" he moaned, his eyes squeezed shut as though he was in horrendous physical agony. "I've seen your glances of antipathy whenever you looked at anything associated with Teknusabet; I've heard you sarcasm and total impudence when you spoke about it." His head drooped on his limp arms resting on the table. "I'm not an imbecile – I know you hated the project."

I didn't waste my breath denying his accusation – it was all in the open now. "So what if I did?" I asked airily. "You're right - I couldn't stand… no, _loathed_ that task. Everything revolved around it." I closed my eyes heavily. "Why hadn't you told me you were going to Egypt last week? I seemed to be the only one in the dark about it."

"It was a last-minute project."

"And? You could've called, but no, you conveniently forgot to say anything about leaving in your message, coward. I wasted my one fucking phone call on James whilst you were gallivanting around Egypt!"

He threw his hands in the air. "I don't know - I guess I did it because I knew you'd react the same way you are now."

I stared at him for a few moments before succumbing to my emotions. "You poured every bit of your attention and soul into Teknusabet, belaboring over it, when…" I started juddering as my eyes burned hotly, "… when you never gave me any attention." My lower lip quivering, I espied a small faience vase and took it in my clutch. "You probably love this vase more than you do me!" I laughed staidly. "I can't believe it – I'm jealous of a vase." My face pulled with uncontainable sorrow and I tighten my fingers alarmingly upon the artifact. "I'm jealous of a two-thousand year-old piece of pottery! I have to vie with this thing for your affection!" I turned it over in my hands, at a lost as I viewed its crackled, blue varnish. "If… if I'd only been an Egyptian artifact… then you would've given me love," and I melted to tears quietly, the vase falling from my hand and shattering at my feet.

He wasn't paying attention, however. "I've lost everything," he incoherently chuckled in a strained voice. "My livelihood, my wife, my daughter and my happiness." He then bore holes through me, penetrating my soul. "And it's your entire fault!"

My stomach plummeted and I warily stepped back. "What?"

"Cynthia and I had an exemplary marriage – no disputes or quarrels whatsoever. And then… you were born," he said, speaking the final part as if it was a vulgar profanity.

I met his gaze. "What the blinding hell is that supposed to mean?" I queried softly… almost dangerously.

Either he didn't hear me or he didn't give a flipping damn. "Shortly after your birth the bickering between she and I began. She started ragging on me about how I dedicated too much time to my studies, when before she didn't mind-"

"Well, naturally!" I inveighed. "Being as you had a family, she probably expected that you shoulder some of the responsibility! She didn't get pregnant on her own!"

"I was trying to support us!" he yelled, and I was conclusive the neighbors in the adjoined flat heard him. "But no, she wanted me to put my career on hiatus!"

"So? Being present for your wife and baby doesn't mean you have to end your work entirely!"

That time, there was no question that he was ignoring me. "It became so severe that we divorced. I concluded we'd simply grown apart, but…" his voice diluted from his acerbic reflecting, "… when she and Higeki were killed by that driver, I noticed a distressing pattern forming."

Unbeknownst to me, my fingernails were slicing into my clenched palms, drawing blood. "What was the pattern?" I asked flatly, insightful to what he would say.

"That every one of these grievous happenings revolved around you."

A single drop of blood splashed on the floor unnoticed.

He ticked off his calloused fingers. "Problems arose in the marriage after you were born, eventually leading to separation and divorce. Cynthia and Higeki perish during your stay with them, and I lost my job because of your - I don't know what you'd call it - rebellion!"

I stared at him poisonously, slowly shaking my head. "You haven't a clue about the truth…."

He dug his nails into the table's polished surface, his knuckles blanching. "I know enough that you're linked to all of this. Ever since you were born I suspected there was something aberrant about you based on your hair shade. With my archaeological training, I was taught never to believe in curses and such, but something… something about you…."

That straw broke the proverbial camel's back. Sick of his unjustified earbashing of me, I illuminated the secret I'd promised never to share with him. "So, I'm a curse now, am I? Well, think what you wish, but I know who's responsible for a large chunk of this tribulation." My bangs fell before my eyes, his image distorted by the silvery filter. "You are."

His face twisted incomprehensibly.

A mad invigoration pulsed through my body. "It's all your fault, solely because you introduced _this_ into our lives!" I fished my hand beneath my shirt and showcased the Ring. "I'm not certain if you're keen to this, but this thing is cursed. It's called the Millennium Ring, not the Nas'tun'a'nuk Ring, and the spirit of a three-thousand year-old Egyptian tomb robber resides within it! I'm not clear on his name because he has little remembrance of his past, but I call him 'Yami.'" Once I'd begun venting the words came with less and less exertion. To hell with any punishment Yami would dish out; I had to purge this from my burdened chest. "Yami's responsible for these atrocities of late – _he_ vandalized the smoke detector on the jet; _he_ stole your damned broad collar; _he_ gives me these injuries because he pummels me whenever he feels!" I stripped off my shirt and displayed the array of puce-hued contusions that were in the tedious process of healing on my chest, shoulders and back.

Dad was stiff in his chair, his eyes slightly glazed.

"He's… he's who raped Angela," I moaned, clutching the striped top to my chest. "Yet being as his body is temporary he has to puppet me about, so he had possessed me in order to attack her!"

He raised a trembling hand to his mouth. "Oh, Ryou… where did I go wrong?"

I put my shirt back on. "You think I'm touched in the head, don't you? Well, I'm going to prove his existence!" I tore the artifact, leather cord and all, from my neck and held it firmly. "Yami, reveal yourself, now! I demand it!"

I waited.

Three seconds;

seven seconds;

a full ten seconds…

… but he didn't bend to my order.

"When did I fail you?" Dad cried, his face soaked and splotchy. Tentatively reaching to me, he whispered, "I tried to be a good father and raise you correctly…." He tore his hands through his hair and screamed, "Cynthia, why did you have to leave me?! I've ruined him somehow!"

I disquietly stumbled back in a cold sweat. The tables had turned on me in the blink of an eye. Because Yami hadn't materialized to give my statement troth I now sounded like a barking madcap. "You heard me, Yami – I told him everything. Please!"

Dad abandoned his seat and faintly said, "Ryou, I want you to lie down on the couch – you're not well." He skirted the wall whilst he spoke, his eyes never leaving mine. "I need to make a phone call to someone who can help you, okay?"

I raised my finger at him, my body shivering from head to toe with fury. "I suggest you make the phone call for yourself, because you're the one who's insane for believing that I'm capable of any of this! The whole effing world's insane for not being able to see my innocence!" I rampaged from the room, cursing everyone for their imbecility. My ears rung as I climbed the stairs and my mind was in shambles as to whether or not he'd call some sort of infirmary. Fine, let them tranquilize me and usher me away. I'd be so gatted with medications that I wouldn't have the sense to fret about my psychotic other.

I entered my room and slammed the door after myself. My hand lingered on the knob for a breath as I noted Yami laying in wait on the other side.

"You told," he hissed.

In one spontaneous movement he decked me. I crashed to the floor, hot-white flashes crossing my field of vision. During the interim blindness, he jerked me up by my arm and made to bash my head, but remarkably, I evaded his fist and followed with a feat I never dreamt I was capable of: I slugged him right in the mouth.

I knew I'd done something totally inconceivable, not to mention suicidal.

He brushed his fingers against his lips and regarded the gleaming blood on his digits with a look of befuddlement in his eyes.

Instinctively, I quailed back, lowering my fist as blood began leaking from the corner of my own lip. "I-I-I'm sorry, Yami! I didn't mean…" I choked out, yet I knew no reparation would redeem me.

He locked his focus on mine, and that's when it happened: every muscle in his face contorted into corrosive, unspeakable wickedness… and it was directed at me.

With a feral scream, he charged. I scrambled out of the way, barely escaping his fatal, predatory clutch. My scampering was erratic, and my only strategy was to elude him at all costs….

A tremendous force collided with my back, plowing me facedown on my bed. I twisted my head up and discovered he had tackled me, but I had little time to dwell on this as he commenced with panning my skull in with maniacal delirium. I kicked out to fend him off, but my foot upset the bedside lamp and it toppled to the floor with a crash.

He then wrapped his hands around my thin throat, and the world ceased.

His brow warped with furor as he applied crushing force on my windpipe. "You know you are _never_ to hit me, boy! And because you have... I must teach you a rather painful lesson!"

I couldn't breathe. The mounting pressure caused a sensation in my head akin to a thousand white-hot needles searing my skin. I neighed with panic, only precipitating my lungs' starvation of air to magnify. I tried salvaging my life by struggling to pry his iron grip from my neck, but it was a wasted effort, only resulting in him vehemently intensifying the vigor of his grasp.

And it was then that I accepted the unmistakable: I was dying. Yami would finally achieve what he'd been threatening for years: to take my life with his own hands.

"Do you want me to kill you again? Is that it?" he demanded through his gritted teeth, digging his nails into my throat evermore.

At that moment my bedroom door flung open, the perpetrator being Dad. "What was that crash I hea-" He faltered mid-sentence, and the cause was starkly evident:

he'd seen Yami.

The spirit, distracted by Dad's arrival, quickly lost interest in me. His eyes grew bright and he retracted his clutch from my neck. As soon as I was free I began hacking violently for life-giving breath.

"Well, I guess this means the mau's out of the bag," Yami leniently mused as he hopped off the bed. Grinning enthusiastically, he advanced towards my father. "It's a pleasure to make this introduction after all these years, Mr. Bakura. My name is… well, I've no memory of my name, actually," he laughed. "However, your son refers to me as 'Yami' so I reckon that's adequate!"

I propped myself upon my unsteady elbow clumsily. "This is the evil spirit I told you about, Dad!" I frenetically wheezed. "Now do you believe me?"

Yet he didn't respond, not to Yami or I. He just stood his ground, hushed, his wide eyes darting between us.

Something was wrong. "Dad?" I asked leerily.

He incoherently opened and closed his mouth like a gasping fish, continuing to shift his gaze from Yami to myself, each time more rapidly. Then, without warning, a harrowing scream issued from him as he chaotically clambered backwards.

Oh, fuck – I hadn't expected him to react that way. I staggered to my feet in a mad rush and neared him. "Dad! Calm down!"

But he wasn't listening. His unfocused sight was locked on Yami as his cacophony of screams grew hoarse.

A trace of sadistic glee touched the spirit's smile. "You really should lower your voice, Mr. Bakura. You're causing a terrible ruckus I'm sure your neighbors aren't pleased with."

My father paused; however, it wasn't because he'd taken Yami's advice. Even before he made any movement, I knew what was happening.

He grabbed his left arm fiercely before he crashed to his knees and keeled over.

"Dad!" I shouted, shoving Yami out of the way. My mind muddled, I knelt near my father and checked for a pulse. It was present, but sporadic. "Shit!" I cried, pushing my hair from my forehead. Trying to keep a steady head, I got close so he could see me. "I'm going to call an ambulance for you, all right Dad?"

He nodded deliriously as his vacant eyes wandered my face.

Cursing, I bolted to the phone and dialed the number. As I waited for someone to answer, I peered around the room and found that the tomb robber had vanished. Unfortunately, this fact held false encouragement, for the irremediable damage had already been done. "Please, don't… don't die," I whispered.

"Emergency services. How may I assist you?" inquired the operator at last.

"My name is Ryou Bakura," I replied, my shaking hands knocking the receiver against my ear. "I think my father's had a heart attack!"

---

I sat in the Cromwell hospital waiting room, lost in a desensitized torpor. My head hung between my slumped shoulders and I blankly stared at the glossy, linoleum tiles. Once again, I checked the time: it had been over two and a half hours since Dad had been admitted into the emergency room. I lowered my head, fearful as to why it was taking so long for someone to update me regarding his condition.

A doctor dressed in blood-flecked scrubs entered the area and approached me. "I take it you're Hiro's son?" he asked, shaking my hand.

"Yeah... I am." Wetting my lips, I softly added, "How is he?"

He lowered himself gingerly into the chair next to mine, his expression taut with what he was about to share. "Your father has suffered a stroke and cardiac arrest simultaneously."

A sharp sob escaped my throat.

"He's presently in a coma, but we have him stabilized."

This wasn't happening. It couldn't have been.

"Apparently, he experienced something so traumatic it perpetuated his body to overreact." He eyed me solemnly. "Had you two been arguing?"

"Yes," I replied thickly.

I noticed him troublingly glance the bruises punctuating my face, but he kept silent.

"We didn't get into a brawl, if that's what you're figuring," I disabused soullessly, not having the strength to be irritated. Peering at him with supplication, I asked, "When will he recover?"

The doctor removed his glasses. "We're… not positive," he answered after hesitation. "Furthermore, even if he does wake from the coma, the damage he sustained from the stroke will no doubt show remediless signs."

"Wha… what do you…" but my voice trailed away.

"May I ask what his profession was?"

Never before had "was" been so disconcerting. The tears began flowing down my face. "Egyptology."

He sighed gravely. "I guarantee that even with intensive rehabilitation he won't have the mind left to continue it. I apologize immensely."

I felt as though I was drowning in icy, grey water, with no hopes of ever reaching the surface again. "No… you've got to help him. I beg you…."

He humbly brought his eyes up. "We wish we could. However, if the oxygen loss to his brain during the stroke was considerable enough to place him in a coma, then the frontal and temporal lobes of his cerebrum - which are responsible for thought, retention and the ability to converse - were most likely damaged."

I repeatedly shook my head as I understood my father's fate. "No… no…" I droned into my fist. As much as I despised his loyal commitment to his profession, I knew it gave him great joy.

The doctor dutifully raised his eyes. "Would you like to see him?"

A gut-numbing iciness flashed through me when I heard his question, but I grimly compromised.

I followed him out of the waiting room and through the glaring halls in morbid procession. In reality, I had no desire to witness Dad; not because I was being an insensible bastard, but because I didn't want to see what he'd been reduced to. I was the type of person who didn't believe in open-casket funerals, where the attendees get a final view of the departed loved one's body. The people should hold memories of that person in their hearts, not admire a formaldehyde-pickled, spray-painted corpse that's a perverse excuse for a sleeping human. It was this philosophy that caused me great agitation in wanting to see my father. I longed to remember him as a driven archaeologist, not a comatose vegetable. Yet I felt obligated to visit him due to the physician's onerous presence.

We finally came to a closed door at the end of a deserted hall, which he opened for me. And on the opposite side, displayed prominently like a deranged museum exhibit, lay my father, the prestigious Dr. Hiro Bakura, hooked up to a plethora of electronic monitors and intravenous tubes.

I deteriorated inside as I absorbed his powerless state, and I mutedly crossed the room to his bedside. Each step I took seemed to widen the distance between us, but I at last reached him, my eyes welling allthewhile.

He lay peacefully motionless. IVs punctured his arms, and a respirator was taped to his mouth and disappeared down the blackness of his trachea. His chest rose and fell with the monotonous beeping of the EKG, the predominant sound in the sterile room.

I quietly knelt beside him. How could this shell of a man be my father? I unknowingly clutched the bed sheets near his side with my quivering hands. "Dad…" I whispered, but I couldn't seem to voice anything after that. I lowered my head, guilt permeating my core when I recalled that the last time I had seen him under normal circumstances was when he had excitedly prepared to work at the British Museum, yet I'd shown no interest. My tears fell on my balled hand, mirroring the drip of the IV's solution. "Dad… I'm sorry…" I said faintly. I screwed my face wretchedly. Why had I informed him about the Ring's secret? I seriously thought by doing so I could purge the encumbrance I had been lugging about for three years. Instead, it had backfired with ruinous consequences. "I'm sorry."

No… none of this was his fault… it was mine.

Just then, his eyes snapped open.

Hopefulness washed over me when I saw this. "Dad?" I asked cautiously, not certain if his action was involuntary or signified he was rousing from the coma.

He strained his flat eyes towards me, his pupils contracting into focus. I knew then that he had regained consciousness and I was about to cry in joy, when at once his color drained and he wrenched back from me in mortal terror.

The physician rushed past me and attempted to quell him, but it was fruitless. My father kept flailing to get away from me, causing the numerous monitoring sensors taped to his body to fly off in errant directions.

I staggered back, mortified by his hysterics. "Dad! It's all right!" I pleaded over the din.

Yet he was too panicked to hear me. Squirming from the doctor's grip, he raised a trembling finger and pointed directly at me. "Akurei! Akurei!" he wailed raucously as sweat beaded on his pasty face.

Just as a nurse sprinted past me to aid the physician, Dad's eyes rolled into his head and he went completely limp like a rag doll. She snapped her head in the direction of the EKG's accelerated beeping. "Doctor, his heart's going into severe palpitations!" she stated urgently.

Snatching a syringe of morphine from a shelf, the physician rapidly injected the contents into Dad's arm, and after a few seconds, the speedy beeping reduced.

I remained fixed, unsure if my father would erupt into another outburst. "What happened just now?" the words slipped through my lips.

Yet my question went by unnoticed, as the doctor was perusing a display screen troublingly. "Hell, his brainwaves are lapsing, Becky!" he tensely addressed the nurse.

"Please tell me what's happening to him!" I bellowed through the commotion.

He turned to face me. "I'm afraid I must request that you leave this room this instant."

"B-but-"

"There is no time to argue this!" he interjected, escorting me towards the doorway. "Hiro's brain is slipping into a coma deeper than the previous one."

I felt like a blade of solid ice had impaled my chest. "W-wha…."

"And," he started with regret, "clearly your presence triggered his panic. If we can get his brain patterns to stabilize, we cannot afford for the sight of you to cause him anymore distress; an additional trauma like that could precipitate brain death."

His prognosis caused me to whiten like a sheet.

At last, in the hall, he presented me a sullen look. "I don't know what circumstances arose that triggered Hiro's heart attack and stroke, and I'd like to respect your wishes for privacy by choosing not to tell me," he then spoke curtly, "but I suspect that you are, at least, in part to blame for his condition, and it's imperative that I learn what you did to him."

I shot him a wrathful glare. "I didn't do a pigging thing to him, you nause!" I snapped, outraged that he too had joined the bandwagon of people impugning me.

His eyes bugged. "I don't appreciate the criticism," he countered assertively.

"Well, I'm sorry you feel that way!" I snorted, not giving a dickey bird about his pride, or my reputation for that matter.

His cheeks darkened. "I warn you, if you continue in this belligerent matter, young man, I'll have you removed from the premises."

But I had reached my limit of being bombarded with so many allegations in two months time. "Why does everyone think I'm this terrible beast? Why is everyone blaming me?!" I hollered rhetorically, completely disregarding that I was no doubt disturbing patients. I stormed down the corridor and out of the hospital, running into the thick blackness of night back to the flat, allthewhile hearing Dad's stinging accusation ceaselessly mocking me...

...Akurei.

Demon.

---

I slammed the door after myself when I returned home. My mind was absolutely in disarray; I couldn't make sense of anything. I buried my face in my clammy hands, struggling to decrease the speed at which my brain spun. But as I stood there the indelible images of Dad and Angela clouded my mind's eye.

Repressing the urge to vomit, I strode to the dining room. Rooting through the china cabinet, I retrieved a sealed bottle of Dad's favorite saké. I didn't waste my time grabbing one of the minute sakazuki cups, so instead, I snatched a tumbler.

Collapsing on the living room sofa, I filled the glass with the alcohol and ravenously finished it in four gulps. My stomach felt like it was on fire owing to this, but it did little to thaw the coldness that permeated my soul. I repeated the actions of filling the tumbler and downing the contents, but halfway finished I broke down completely. The glass slipped from my weak grasp as harsh, overdue bawling tore from my anguished psyche and echoed dully throughout the cold flat.

I curled into a fetal position on my side, the only action I trusted could bring me consolation of any type. As the rice wine numbed my mind, and my sobs eased to choppy whimpers, the person that I spurned so much materialized.

"Now, now – no need to cry," Yami sadistically cooed, falling back into the couch cushions beside me.

"You bastard," I slurred, sitting up. "My father is currently being hospitalized in a coma because of you and you tell me there's no need to cry?!" I realized I was putting my life on the line speaking to him so ostentatiously, but having roughly a half bottle of saké in my system sent my inhibitions all by the way. My temper flare reopened my wounds of misery, and my face wrested into a tortured grimace. "Why did you let Dad see you?"

His eyes penetrated mine with a crushing gaze, initiating me to look away submissively. Finally, he answered, "It shouldn't matter to you, Hikari. You were goading me to reveal my presence to him five minutes before."

I stared at my dark half, appalled by his callousness, and I cursed myself for not finding a logical retort to his observation. But right then, I noticed something peculiar about his appearance I hadn't discerned before: like me, he had the exact butterfly of a fading contusion encircling his eyes.

"You shouldn't complain," he said before taking a swig from the saké bottle. "At least you spent a good while of your life with your parents and sister. Mine were slaughtered when I was a child during that blasted village raid of the pharaoh's," he added scornfully, his eyes sharp. "So now, as my re-embodiment, you can experience the emptiness I underwent from losing a family."

A twinge of animosity seared through me. "How many times do I have to tell you, plonker? I'm not your re-incarnation."

He ignored my insult, savoring the contents of the bottle. Then, what he said next sent shockwaves through me, which to this day I still feel. "I suppose I should've ended your dad's life on the same day I killed your mother and sister, just to doubly impact you."

Everything seemed to become very still. _No, I heard him incorrectly,_ I thought, convincing myself that my rationality was feeling the repercussions of the alcohol. My forehead burning, I peered at him. "Don't say that, Yami. You had nothing to do with my mum and sister's deaths," I thinly croaked, in spite that I knew the veracity in my heart.

He cackled wickedly, as though this was all hilarious. "Really, Ryou! Did you honestly believe their deaths were unintentional? A freak accident, perchance?" He reached over and patted the top of my head. "Oh, you truly are pathetic, boy."

I felt the bolts that held my sanity in place loosening. "W-why?" was all I could manage as my vision blurred with tears.

"Simple: you asked me to."

"That's a damned lie!" I growled, abruptly finding my footing. "I never asked you to kill them! Hell, I didn't even know you existed during that time!"

"Ah, let me correct you," he rebuffed calmly before draining the remainder of the alcohol. "True, for the first six months you owned the Ring I remained hidden from you, as you were of minimal importance to me other than providing me a soul room." Placing the empty bottle on the table, he stood menacingly. "Whilst I was in the room, your thoughts rang throughout it, and it seemed that you habitually dwelt on one in particular: 'Why do Higeki and I constantly have to travel thousands of miles between parents? I… wish… it… could… stop,'" he ended quietly.

I died inside. The words that he had articulated were more painful and damaging than even his most vicious assault, for they were my own, verbatim. "I…I didn't want it to stop that way, though…" I whispered meagerly, hindsight permitting me to see my stupidity of having suck reckless contemplations.

"Well, you should have been more specific."

A thousand thoughts swirled and clashed in my brain, but not one remained stationary long for me to absorb it. Hot streams of tears flooded down my face, my eyes wide open. "You… you misconstrued the meaning of my words intentionally!" I babbled, completely out of it.

"Misconstrued or not, nobody should think so frivolously of their family."

I gripped my hair disconnectedly, the jagged blade of penitence shredding my reasoning to ribbons.

"I would've killed them in due time, but my vessel's wants were too great to brush aside. And, if you recall, I told you early on that I grant wishes to show my gratitude for residing in your body," he continued, frighteningly undaunted. "I summoned all my strength that day to leave the confines of the Ring for the first time." Without forewarning, the Ring seared against my chest, and he roughly snatched my wrist. "Allow me to show you what occurred."

At once, I screwed my eyes as a blinding light emanated above me. I shielded my face against the illumination and peered up, absolutely staggered to discover that the ceiling had vanished, revealing the late-morning sky. Flabbergasted, I returned my gaze to Yami and became cognizant that the washed light caused the living room, as well as he, to dissolve, and before I knew it, I found myself standing on the jam packed walkway of Brompton Road.

I spun wildly, fearing I'd gone insane. "What's going on?!"

"Isn't it obvious?" I heard Yami say, his unseen grip still upon my wrist. "I've brought you inside my memory. Now watch."

I couldn't comprehend his advisement, but at that moment a sound my ears and soul had been aching to hear for three years broke over the droning of the congested street. I heard her… no, both of them. I desperately turned and saw the source:

it was Mum and Higeki, walking up the path.

I was unable to move. It was really them, right in front of me, just as I remembered them that October morning before I'd left for school. Higeki held Mum's hand, her bright, innocent eyes taking in her surroundings. "Mummy, can we go to the zoo later?"

"Yes, Higeki, but first I need to buy some perfume at Harrods."

I pressed my trembling hand to my mouth, emotion overtaking me completely. "Mum… Higeki…" I thickly whispered. They passed by, their familiar scent tickling my nose. Everything about them was spot on; the way they looked, sounded….

Straightaway, the explanation of the events unfolding before me re-entered my idealistic cranium. It now made perfect sense as I replayed what Yami had aforesaid: _"I've brought inside my memory. Now watch."_

He hadn't taken me here to permit me to see them for my benefit - he was about to show me their deaths!

His sinister cachinnations chilled me as he intensified his grip. "Brilliant deductions, Hikari! It truly is a wonder you figured that out with that great, stupid skull of yours!"

Ignoring the thief completely, I frantically brought my watch towards my sweaty face: 10:46 am. Shit, that was around the time they were struck. I looked up and spied them halting at the intersection, no more than twenty meters away. "No," I mumbled, the flame of determination roaring to life inside me. "I can't let them die!" Before I could examine the absurdity of my actions, I pelted down the footpath, leaving my common sense in my wake. "Higeki! Mum! Don't go in the street!" I shrieked, dodging the influx of pedestrians rather well taking into account I was inebriated.

But they remained unobservant to my cries; Mum simply re-shifted a shopping bag on her arm, whilst Higeki held tightly to Miss Tuskers, her plush, toy elephant.

I slackened my pace as I approached them, my labored heart screaming, and I made to grab Mum's shoulder…

… only to witness my hand passing right through her. "W-wha…" I panted, but gradually my heart deadened, for I understood the significance.

"Don't be idiotic, Vessel," Yami's hot breath intoned in my ear. "Everything you are beholding has already happened, and nothing you do can alter this recollection or the past. It's done."

Of course, I knew he was correct. I realized that no matter how much I screamed and entreated, these shadows would never acknowledge me, nor could I make physical contact with them, which clarified my perceived nimbleness maneuvering the pathway seconds before. "No," I choked in a strangled whisper, reaching feebly to stroke Higeki's amber hair. "Please don't leave me a second time…." My hand found nothing as it glided through her spectral head. I slowly sunk to my knees, defeated. "Please, don't cross," I begged through cold lips as I watched her kiss Mrs. Tusker's forehead. My limp fists fell repeatedly against the pavement. "Don't cross."

"Oh, stop with the dramatics," Yami's conceited voice dispassionately intoned. "Now get up – the best bit is about to arise."

My body became rigid as I registered his abominable remark. I shot daggers where I suspected his face to be and snapped, "You murderous son of a bitch! Do you actually believe I want to see them die?!" I regained my shaky footing and added, "Unlike you, I don't get off by looking at dead things!"

Before I even had time to reflect on what I'd said, Yami brutishly twisted my arm behind my back. I cried out in agony as a sharp pain ripped through my shoulder joint, perpetuating me to wobble.

"Your impertinence is growing very trite, knob-shiner," he hissed dangerously from behind. "You have little choice in this matter. You _will_ see the destruction of your mother and sister, as I witnessed mine's three-thousand years ago." He steadily forced my limb upward, causing me to blench. "If you object once more, I will pop your arm from the socket!" he added, spraying my cheek with saliva.

I could feel every muscle fiber stretching and snapping in my shoulder, and right when I thought he'd carry out his threat without just cause, he slackened his grip as the pedestrian signal arrested his attention. He sniggered fiendishly and purred, "It's happening."

I shrugged him off and numbly resigned myself that, undeniably, I was going to watch the accident's inexorable occurrence. Not because I feared Yami's harrying, but rather, I had to know – know what exactly transpired that morning, and whether or not they had suffered.

"Here we go, Higeki," Mum chimed as they stepped off the curb and began negotiating the road amidst a knot of other pedestrians. My insides wrenched with foreboding as I followed, oblivious that Yami had not yet released my wrist. I slid through the denseless crowd to get to my loved ones, of which I walked with in a protective manner. The whole while, I obsessively examined the area, looking for any indication of the pending chaos.

But no signal ever came my way. The waiting motorists remained patiently behind the intersection and my mother and sister had nearly finished traversing the street. I gawped at them incredulously. "I don't understand – you both managed to get across safely. What happened?" I pathetically pleaded.

An autumn breeze swirled the brittle leaves in the road, prompting Higeki to giggle sweetly, and I savored her ringing lithe as Mum halted on the pathway. "Blasted leaves! They got in my bag!"

That's when I felt it: the flesh-creeping, hollow sensation that I had persistently relived for three years. In that second that seemed to span eternity, I cast my eyes left towards the oncoming pedestrians that had barely passed us… and I registered the identifiable mass of white hair as though in slowed time.

It was he – or, at least, Yami's memory of himself.

I watched, incapable to intervene, as he snatched Miss Tuskers from Higeki's hand in one swift, smooth movement. "My elephant!" she cried. She turned around and met the sight of him, still clutching the toy. "Ryou, what are you doing away from school?" she naively queried the phantom Yami.

"No, foolish girl – can't you see he's not me?" I whined. But I couldn't really blame her; he looked impeccably similar to me that morning – he was even wearing my school uniform.

The crossing light switched off, warranting the cars free reign of the road once again. The past Yami smiled kindly at Higeki, and then tossed the elephant towards the middle of the street.

"Hey! Why'd you throw Miss Tuskers?" she cried, abandoning Mum's side.

Mum looked up and paled when she discovered my sister inattentively sprinting to her doom. "Higeki, no!" She dropped her bags and gave chase.

The mystery as to why my sister had run into the oncoming traffic that morning finally unraveled. Yami's plan had been so rudimentary, yet sickeningly flawless. The only thing I could do now was be near them when they died.

I arrived at the abandoned toy just as Higeki knelt to retrieve it. That's when I saw the careening car enter Brompton Road by executing a sharp left from a side street. Mum grabbed Higeki's arm, and we all looked upon death in the form of instantaneously approaching headlamps….

I collapsed to my hands as knees on the living room floor when Yami freed my wrist, returning us to the present. I was sweating profusely, my breathing ragged gasps. I dug my fingers into the carpet, feeling that I'd drown if I didn't grab hold of something solid.

"You know what the outcome was, so I don't need to show you. But wasn't it absolutely brilliant?"

I'd barely heard him as my mother and sister's final moment played out repetitively in my thoughts. Their lives had come undone in less than a second… because of him. I peered up at the arrogant bastard. _Am I truly destined to be his host, his marionette, for the remainder of my life?_ I cogitated as perspiration dripped off my chin. No, I couldn't have that. Determined, I got to my feet and stalked to the kitchen.

I had made up my mind.

I flicked on the light and hurried to the cutlery drawer. I had to do it; there was no other way out. I jerked open the drawer and found my salvation: a black-handled, riveted steak knife. _Yami's hurt not only me, but my family and friends,_ I rationalized as I rapidly slid a chair out with my foot and lowered myself. I had tried disposing of the Ring, but it chronically returned to me like clockwork. If I, his host body, was dead, then his soul would possibly die… and he'd never cause maltreatment upon anyone again. I sat contemplating, nervously twirling the handle. The neighbors would report the putrescent odor originating from the Bakura residence to the police in a few days time….

I placed my right arm, face-up, on the table, when a fleeting qualm tugged at my guilt: how would Dad, Yugi, and the others react once they'd discovered what I had done? No, I couldn't needle myself with these petty feelings. Even if Dad woke, he would be an invalid. As for my friends… well, they would have to understand my circumstances.

I attempted to pull a calming breath into my lungs as I lined the blade up to my wrist. However, as soon as the metal grazed my skin, I began shaking with fright. "You can do this," I convinced myself, trying not to faint.

"What in the name of Ra are you doing, boy?"

I cast my eyes askance as Yami emerged from behind me; I wasn't going to let him sway my decision. Feverishly repositioning my fingers around the hilt, I cackled, "What does it look like, wankstain?! I'm going to end this bloody misery once and for all, and you can't stop me!"

At that point, I had expected his reaction to be that of outrage, and I became scared when he merely smiled. "What are you waiting for, then? Do it."

I blinked, absolutely appalled that he was inciting me. My anger bubbling over, I snarled, "Fine! I can't wait to die!" An apoplectic insanity scorched through me, born from my confidence that I would no longer have to face the backlash for my actions or words. "Ever since you've made yourself known to me, I've hated you, Yami…." I inhaled a stuttered breath, "… and I've hated myself for housing your soul!" Crazed, I fixed my eyes on my arm and pressed the blade against my wrist….

… but I still didn't have the courage to end my life.

I'd been so focused that I hadn't noticed him stealthily sidling towards me, and I started when he whispered in my ear, "Don't merely flirt with death… make passionate love to it."

My sweaty body trembled like a leaf. Suddenly, the prospect of killing myself petrified me. "I-I-I can't!"

I heard him… I heard him speak, but by the time I had processed the horrid meaning it was too late. Plucking the knife from my hand, he sighed, "Oh, let me do it." In less than a second he'd grabbed my hair, jerked my head back and slit my throat from ear to ear.

Blinding-white panic consumed me and I toppled from the chair. Cupfuls of blood surged from the wound, soaking my front side, and I wrapped my hands around my neck to stanch the spurting liquid. A gruesome, cherry-colored mist doused the air, peppering the counters and shelves with my life. In my inane efforts at calling an ambulance, I tripped and landed face first on the now-slick floor. I tried to scream, but the tear in my throat and the burbling, hot blood distorted my voice. "No!" I growled, "I'm not going to die on the ground like a dog!" I tore my fingers into the tile and managed to drag myself across the floor, the vital liquid bathing my chest. My muscles cramped sharply from lack of oxygen, and I utilized their last bit of strength to lean my failing body against a cabinet.

I unsteadily sat up and a renewed wave of wet heat spilt from my neck. My breathing grew labored, and I felt the air escaping through my ruined trachea. As my vision slipped away, so did the terror I had experienced when I'd realized what the spirit had done.

I detected the dim image of Yami standing before me, and I chuckled, "How ironic… you have oppressed me and caused so much torment in my life, yet you've freed me from it!" I could no longer feel my body, but I didn't care. Inky silence enveloped me, and I cracked a ghost of a smile. "Thank you for killing me, Yami. I'll be able to reunite with my sister and mother."

He remained still, and as my body shut down, he whispered, "Anx anx an mit-k."

My mind had obviously ceased as well, for I couldn't decipher his words, which were no doubt insults. "Same to you, ass," and I closed my eyes, falling into perfect, eternal slumber.

---

No sounds met my ears, and all I could see was a gauzy, rouge glow. I faintly realized my eyes were shut, and my lids fluttered open. White, blurry images filled my field of vision. _I'm actually dead,_ I thought, grateful that the fog began thinning from my mind. However, this consciousness also ushered the arrival of an unfathomable nausea of which I nearly gave in to. I tried standing, but my muscles were leaden and felt as though they were ablaze. Funny… I wouldn't have thought one could feel pain when they were dead. I rubbed my palms against my eyes, but my vision was reluctant to focus.

As I was in the afterlife, I began to call out for one of my loved ones, when soreness stung my neck. I flinched and took a cursory feel of the tender area: it was caked with a tacky substance. What was it? I made to examine the matter on my fingers, when it occurred to me just then that my skin was cool as marble and I was shivering.

My heart quickened - something was awry. _What's going on?_ I thought frantically, but the words never formed on my lips, for I became cognizant of a sharp, metallic stench entombing the area.

This revelation struck me with the speed and intensity of a sword. "No, it's not possible!" I cried and I inspected my hand, in no doubt of what dampened my fingers.

I saw it, despite my eyes remaining unfocused…

… the maroon sheen, supplied by my body.

During that second my vision decided to sharpen into focus… and I instantly wished it had not.

The tiled floor, which had at one time rivaled alabaster in color, was now tainted and flooded by an act of mindless savagery. Blood, an inconceivable abundance of it, sat pooled and coagulated beneath me, much of it settled within the grout grooves and snaking its way over the kitchen's floor. My shirt and jeans were stiff with the dried, copious amounts of liquid, causing my skin to itch madly.

Steadily, my sanity slipped away.

It was impossible I had survived such brutality – slaughterhouses had less gore.

Inquisitively, I ran my hand down my throat and happened upon a disclosure: there was no laceration.

It was then that I noticed Yami sitting opposite me on the floor, his garbs also soaked, watching me darkly. "So you've finally regained consciousness. You know you've been out for two hours, Ryou."

The air suddenly seemed to leave the small, decaying room, and I felt as though I might asphyxiate. "What's going on?" I asked monotonously.

His eyes glistened with spite as he studied me. "Why…" he replied so faintly that I scarcely detected it over my gasping.

"What?" I coughed spasmodically and bloody foam dribbled down the corner of my mouth.

Almost imperceptibly, his bottom lip trembled. "Why should you get to automatically pass into the afterlife, whereas I have to endure this imperishable depth of misery that is my existence?"

I thought my head would split from his gibbering. "What are you talking about?"

Utilizing his velocity, he shot to his feet and tramped through the mess my body had spilt. "Don't feign that sweet innocence of yours!" he screamed, backhanding me upside the head. "You know fucking well what I mean!" He stomped back with his hand against his face to the dining table, where only hours before I had considered taking my life.

But had he allowed me to achieve it?

Nursing the welt that remained as a memory of the blow, I subduedly peered at him and asked the question that I feared. "Have you resurrected me from death?"

A bright grin met his face and he burst into a fit of guffaws. "You can't be serious, boy! You know I've no ability to bring people back from the dead – why on Earth do you think I've devoted three millennia at attempting to possess the other six Millennium Items?"

Something was terribly amiss. "How can I still be alive? The kitchen is swimming in my blood."

His laughter abruptly ceased. Lowering his head deliberately, his tangled bangs fell before his eyes, and he spoke in a detached whisper, "Whilst I cannot restore a soul to its earthly shell, I _do_ have the power to keep it confined to the body. Actually, both the pharaoh and I do."

It became increasingly difficult for my head to remain upright. "I don't follow you, Yami."

He sighed exaggeratedly and settled back in the chair. "Despite that the Millennium Items were fashioned from the souls and flesh of people from my childhood village, only two of the objects contain active, resident spirits: your Ring, where my soul dwells, and the Puzzle, which is the home of the pharaoh. There was a time before he and I were encased when any one person could take claim to a Millennium Piece with no consequences. However," he paused, scratching away the blood off his neck, "when the souls of that namby-pamby ruler and I were sealed, the Puzzle and Ring were, in a way, polluted, and certain death befell anyone who took a bash at acquiring ownership of them."

"But-"

"Let me finish!" he roared, practically flying out of the seat.

I shrunk back and whimpered, "I'm sorry."

"Now, if there'll be no further outbursts…" he sulked. "There are those who are immune to this curse: the incarnations of the spirits that are contained within the Items. When I was reunited with you, I knew that I had finally found my re-embodiment. My soul intertwined with yours, but from what I've witnessed this process has a side effect, of which Yugi has undergone with his yami."

"And what's that?"

He interlaced his fingers and smiled, yet it held no amiability. "A halt in age progression of the host's body."

Acid lurched in my stomach. "What?" I croaked.

"Think on it for a moment, Ryou – you and that brat, the owners of the Items, have not aged since coming in contact with them. You're the exact image of back on your fifteenth birthday when you saw the Ring initially."

Realization crawled over me like a thousand spiders. "That's why I haven't grown or gotten facial hair… and that's why Yugi still looks like a child…."

"Yes; very astute," he said lightly. "The vessel's form ceases maturing, no matter how many years may lapse. However, in addition to suspension of growing old, something far more significant takes place."

I knew what he was about to share, but I didn't want to hear him utter it, for that would seal it as actual.

"The imprisoned half of the soul, having located its other, latches onto it. However, it knows that because it itself is trapped it can never join the free part when the body dies, and it in turn doesn't have the capability to ensnare the free section in the Item. Thence, not wanting to be separated again, it innately utilizes the Item's power to keep the free half in an unchanging body, ensuring permanent unity." He then delivered the words methodically, savoring them as they rolled off his tongue. "Death is unobtainable."

I stared at my dark half as my mind refused to believe this. "That's impossible, Yami – everyone will die sooner or later."

"Don't be stupid, Hikari," he hissed. "How do you explain the fact that seven liters of your blood are saturating the floor, yet you're still alive?"

"Because you brought me back from the dead, you selfish scrote!"

"I told you!" he bellowed savagely. "Only someone who possesses the entire Item collection has the ability to do that!" He jabbed his finger at me. "I used the Ring to restrain your soul in your body as you were bleeding!" He draped his arm haughtily over the chair's back. "Seeing how you'd been so indignant tonight, I decided to let you lose a vital amount of blood, just so it would be all the more unbearable for you to recover."

My brain was speeding, unable to grasp any of this. "'Recover'? Then that means I must have died. Am I un-dead?"

"No. Rest assured, you're alive – your heart still beats."

Each answer further entangled me in the tentacles of this devastating crux. "Wait a second… you've got a pulse, too. Are you telling me you're alive, Yami?"

He glared at me diffidently. "Sarcasm doesn't suit you - don't attempt it."

I boorishly scoffed.

"Yes, my heart beats, but it's artificial, dependent on your heart's life. It's more or less a reflex of the muscle. And my body generates heat because of your presence. But warmth and pulse notwithstanding, I am dead. My blood flows throughout me, but it's putrefied; I'm warm to the touch, but my internal organs are decomposed. You are the reason I have life outside the Ring and am able to leave its boundaries, if only temporarily. If you expired, I'd have to tolerate thousands of years more within the pendant until my next incarnation shows up. Even then, what would be the chances that he'd come in contact with the Ring?" He pointed at me with clear purpose. "That is another reason why I won't let you perish – I refuse to spend every waking hour in that blasted thing!" He then shrugged nonchalantly. "Also, and it pains me to say this, but I've taken a shine to your personality, Ryou. I like your quirks – you amuse me."

I tried dispelling him and this electrifying divulgence of my potential everlasting, but I fell short of my aspired goal. "If I'm immortal, as you say, then why did I pass out after you slit my throat?" I challenged.

He chuckled. "Like any living thing, you're still susceptible to losing consciousness from lack of blood to the brain. Yet, unlike mortals, your spirit never left you afterwards. After I healed the slash with the Ring's abilities, your body replenished the lost corpuscles just as if you had suffered a moderate cut."

My denial that he was merely carrying on with a tremendous lie was wearing thin. Yet I couldn't accept his statement as true, for if I did, I'd lose my mind. My last bastion was to find a loophole in his inference. "You're wasting your time keeping me alive, Yami – I'm not your re-incarnation."

He laughed harshly, slapping his knee. "That's got to be the most hysterical thing you've uttered since I've met you, Aibou! You're not my re-incarnation – that's rich."

I failed to see the humor and remained dead vigilant. "Laugh all you please, but it's the truth."

He smiled. "Oh?"

I nodded affirmatively.

The corners of his mouth dropped. "Give me one flipping iota to prove it."

I swallowed, chafing my repaired throat. "I just know."

He sniggered flatly and rolled his eyes. "I do say, that is a most interesting answer. However, it is quite nebulous, so bequeath me the privilege of enlightening you." He leaned forward smugly. "As much as you want to deny it, you _are_ my incarnation and we share the same soul. We are the same person, you and I."

"No! That's a rotten lie!" I hollered, causing my head to ring violently. "Sure, we may share the same soul but I'm not you!"

He grinned dementedly, instigating the dried blood to flake off his chin. "Do you hear the idiocy of what you are saying? You yourself acknowledge that our soul is divided betwixt us, yet in the subsequent breath you have the audacity to say we're not one?" He shook his head as though I were a tiring puzzle with no solution. "Stop contradicting yourself. It's embarrassing."

"We're not!" I emphatically pressed.

He answered me, not with words, but by leisurely digging in his pocket and retrieving his golden dagger. He then crouched near me and held out his hand. "Watch carefully," he forewarned before slicing the blade through his palm with no hesitation.

Pain fired through my hand straight away and I doubled over. I uncurled my tightened fingers, and what I discovered terrified me…

… my palm sported a fresh gash, identical to the thief's.

"Not only do we share souls, but we are linked by a physical connection, as well," he said, displaying his own hand, which oozed gellid, putrid blood. "Whatever injury you receive whilst we're in separate bodies, I receive, and vice versa."

I was about to dispute his outlandish theory, when I harked back what I had perceived as insignificant gestures of Yami's during the past couple months:

When he had smashed my head against the wall the night before we left Japan, he had nursed the back of his skull.

Sequentially backhanding me on the jet, he wiped his mouth.

Ensuing knifing my arm on the first night at the flat, he had clutched his own.

Teeth marks had adorned my hand after I had bit his.

After I had returned from that interrogation concerning Angela's rape, and he struck my face, his cheek was inflamed.

His bruising on his forehead. Had he obtained it simultaneous to mine? I didn't know, because I hadn't looked him in the eye during his week of verbal cruelty preceding the trial.

And, most recently, when I'd cuffed his mouth only hours earlier, blood had dribbled down my lip.

He laughed as I deliberated upon the last, unequivocally having invaded my thoughts. "I have to admit, you certainly have quite a pair of rocks to have had the gall to smack me like that, let alone consider it. I seriously didn't think you had it in you, Ryou." He quickly affixed, "Of course, for the sake of your well being, I would highly advise against trying it a second time."

My brain couldn't assimilate any more of this. Any moment I would awaken and find that all of this, including the past three years, had been a frightful dream.

He tilted his head back, and I saw a faint scar emblazoning his smooth neck. "My throat opened just as I administered your injury. However, I remained awake because, naturally, blood loss doesn't affect a specter. As soon as I healed you, my body followed suit."

That explained why, he too, was soaked in the carmine stains. While assimilating all of this, I flashed on something the pharaoh told my friends and I once: during his duel with Pegasus Yugi's heart had allegedly stopped, yet afterwards he recovered with no explanation; was it because the pharaoh revived him unsuspectingly? I felt as though I would pass out from this harrowing reality. However, just then I called to mind something that negated Yami's claims. "Answer me this: when Angela scraped my face during the attack, yours didn't show any injury. If we're linked physically, why were you unscathed?"

"Ah, very perceptible on your part for noting that, host – I extol you," he beamed. "Whenever I subjugate you, your body acts like a shield and absorbs any trauma you receive. Thus, during those times, only you bear the damage."

My thoughts cascaded over one another in pursuance of something, anything, to abolish his account, and I happened upon one that would most assuredly hit the mark. "You injured my shoulder on my birthday, but you showed no affliction. Why?"

He plainly responded, "I've suffered far worst pain throughout my life and death – why show response to such a minor wound? Oh, and if our bodies mirror each other, why had I threatened to decapitate you and place my form at risk?" he cited, sparing me the trouble of summoning it into my own brainwaves.

"Y-yeah," I interchanged, conforming to his game. "And removing my head is far more irreparable than merely slicing my throat open, and then sealing the laceration. You wouldn't have been able to reattach it."

He stared down his nose at me frostily. "You underestimate me, my dear lad. The Ring would have easily given me the ability to fuse your head back upon your neck again. As for the aspect of me being headless, well, being awkward for me personally notwithstanding, it would have been well worth it just to keep you headless for the night whilst you remained very much alive – but, as you're aware, I didn't do that." He casually leaned closer. "Even if the Items were not cursed, allowing any person to own them with no backlash of death, not just anyone can gain a connection with the resident spirits. However, as you and I are bonded to such great extent, there is no question that you are my incarnation." With that, he seized my arm and raked the blade through my flesh. Yet I was not in the presence of mind to detect the wrecking in my limb, as I numbly saw that a jagged cut had split his arm's skin.

It couldn't have been possible; we were nothing alike. _He's only a spirit inhabiting the Millennium Ring – he can't be my previous self._

"Now why are you adamant about that?" he bit, bringing to light another interfacing feature: the mind-link. "I've been kind enough to educate you by pointing out the facts, and yet you continuously turn a blind eye! Fucking hell! First you agree that we share a soul, and in the next breath you refuse to believe you're my revivification! Make up your mind!"

I had to support myself on shaking arms as I frenziedly sobbed, "I can't be – I can't be your incarnation!"

"Oh, that's it, Ryou – pour it on," he drawled aloofly, making a beckoning gesture with his hand.

"Y-Yugi and I are n-never going to die… because of you spirits?!" I stammered, hysteria grappling me and swiftly dragging me under.

"To sum it all up, yes."

My widened eyes drowned in tears as I babbled, "I can't be…" over and over. "I'm… I'm not you… I never will be…."

He shook his head amusedly. "But you are, other half, and I'll be damned if I ever let you die and abandon me again."

"No… no…" I muttered, completely out of touch with reality.

Impervious to my breakdown, he spied a pile of granite stelai by the base of the table that Dad had been researching and retrieved them. "Basically, Aibou, I'm aiming to bring you as much destitution that I had dealt to me in my life, as well as this blasted condemnation," he explained, skimming the engraved text of one of the slabs. "By no means can I replicate the state of affairs that riddled my miserable life for your torment per say, but I can sure as hell try. For starters, I make certain you lose your mother and sister, as I had. I did take a shot at driving a rift between you and your friends; unfortunately, that was unsuccessful, but I did ruin your credibility in your father's eyes." He diverted his focus from the tablet and grinned cruelly. "I concocted the latter on a whim that night I admonished to behead you. I figured, what satisfaction would I gain if I killed you then later brought you back to life? I determined it would be far more devastating for you to witness the gradual deconstruction of the relationship you shared with Hiro."

I thought over his words and brought my head up wearily. "Everything that happened regarding Dad… you planned?"

"Now don't make me out as a monster," he pouted. "I had no intention of putting your father in a coma whatsoever, but it turned out most beneficial for me, I suppose."

All I could do was ogle the thief. Slowly, my fingernails dug into the floor with malice. "You murderous-"

"And I hate to brag, but I must say I was exceptionally pleased with how I motivated your dearest Angela to absolutely loathe you," he cut across boastfully, discarding the bloodied slab and selecting another. "I assume that was an especially crippling blow to your psyche, am I correct?"

I abhorred him. I desired nothing more at that time than to choke the deplorable life out of him, but suddenly, the handful of the reveries I had recently experienced prodded me to reflect on their key points:

I had given chase after the unidentified child and woman in a sweltering desert, my eyes lined with kohl marks – the make-up the ancient Egyptians rimmed their eyes with;

I had laid in wait to ambush somebody in an Egyptian tomb;

the clothing that had adorned me when I asked my father why it was so crucial that we visit the Teknusabet site…

… the language… the language in which I'd voiced the inquiry: of course – it was ancient Egyptian.

_No; those weren't recollections from my past life, when… when I was him – they were only dreams,_ I poorly assured myself, though I knew I was backed in a figurative corner.

"Just keep telling yourself that, Living Me," he chortled wickedly from behind the stele. "It's nice to have smatterings of hope, even if you're aware they're pitiable lies."

My life was flaking away before my very eyes as I understood the harshness of it all:

He had robbed me of my family.

He had driven away the girl I so desperately loved.

He had engendered a subtle yet present stigma between my friends and I.

He had grotesquely hindered my body from aging.

Overall, he'd placed me in a deep, unforgiving depression…

… and I realized, with horrifying dejection, that not only were we the same individual at one time, but he would never allow me freedom from his oppressive hold.

Death had lost its beguiling promise. It was now no more than a five-letter word.

"Ryou," he suddenly said, pulling me back to the situation at hand, "I told you something after I cut your neck. I said, 'Anx anx an mit-k - Live life, not shalt thou die.'" He leisurely rested his chin on his intertwined fingers. "What I meant by that is that your life will never extinguish, just as I've had to withstand this eternal punishment." He smirked. "Face it: as long as I deem so, you are immortal."

I buckled when I heard him matter-of-factly deliver the news, lunacy slicing at any saneness still floating about in my brain.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "By no means is this the first instance you've died, boy. There have been about a half dozen times in which you've theoretically perished and were completely unaware of it."

My face had gone very numb. "Tell me the times, bastard."

He shifted his gaze as he considered this. "The initial occasion transpired during that Monster World battle with the pharaoh and that band of gits. In a most cravenly gesture, you tactfully sealed your soul in the dice and shattered them, all to stop my winning streak-"

"Your cheating streak," I growled in correction.

I didn't bother to look up, as I sensed him glaring at me. "When you destroyed the dice, you died instantly. And yet, you returned to the living." He tilted his head patronizingly. "Any guesses why?"

"I was able to resurrect myself because a minute part of my soul was sealed in the playing piece of a level thirteen White Wizard," I snarled. "Don't flatter yourself by claiming you had anything to do with my reawakening, Yami!"

A look of incredulous disgust contorted his features. "Oh, pish! Do you truly think those lead figures held any supernatural powers, Ryou? I'm shocked by you witlessness." He selected yet another carved tablet and disinterestedly scrutinized the marred hieroglyphs. "I was the one responsible for restoring life to your form, and it was only then that I realized I had the ability to do so."

I gulped back my raw sobs from this disillusion.

"A year later, during my duel with the pharaoh on Kaiba's Battle City dirigible, I found myself face-to-face with his Egyptian god, Slifer, but shortly thereafter you reclaimed control of your body. Even with me infiltrating you, no mortal body can possibly withstand the dragon's unbridled rage. So, apprehending the circumstances, I chose to confront Slifer with dignity, rather than continue to grant you consciousness so you could snivel, the little whinger that you are." He leered. "After I received the blast, I preserved your spirit within your form."

I didn't want to hear him.

"And there were more recent instances where I kept your soul stifled," he relayed, fixing his attention on me. "The first night here, when I ambushed you. That blow I delivered to your stomach easily ruptured your organs and would have killed any other human. However," a twisted smile played at his lips, "you're not like any other human, now are you?"

I closed my burning eyes.

"The other time was no more than a week ago, after you had returned from the police station." He propped his feet pretentiously upon the table. "When I walloped your face, I'd hit you with such force that a depression remained in your forehead." He rested his hands behind his head before he added, "It's no wonder you expired yet again – your face was a right, pulpy mess!"

My tears dripped onto the floor, mingling with the stagnant blood. I was indescribably queasy, trying not to picture the descriptive he had just told me….

Just then, he sternly met my gaze. "After everything I've related in the past few minutes, is there any residual doubt that you are not my new embodiment, Ryou?"

I chose not to answer him. I couldn't. My mind was reduced to chaotic instability. All I wanted to do was laugh… laugh at the travesty of my life… laugh that I now ascertained his threat that had gone over my head when he'd been strangling me: _"Do you want me to kill you again?"_… laugh at his admirable efforts at finally obliterating my outlook for a promising future… laugh at my gullibility for ever having accepted the Ring from my father the preceding three years. And, as my thoughts were so deranged at that moment, I strongly considered throwing my head back and chortling until my throat grew raw from strain, allowing enticing madness to embrace me….

And I would've, had the telephone not rung at that precise moment.

I remained in an incapacitated heap, possessing no interest in speaking with whoever it was. As it was so late, chances are it was in correlation with Dad, and I didn't want to hear any more crushing news.

But the call didn't apply to my father – it was Dr. Phillip Hutchinson.

"This is Phillip Hutchinson," the physician's voice proclaimed with brevity through the message machine's speaker. "I apologize for ringing so terribly late, as well as the delay in getting back to you regarding Ryou's test results."

I listened intently.

"Mr. Bakura, I have pored over your son's readouts repeatedly with local specialists." He paused. "Ryou is, quite frankly, a medical miracle. His growth pattern not only ceased abruptly, as Dr. Isha Naikai had amounted to, but…." He exhaled. "I know this is going to sound inconceivable, but based on these evaluations, he _has_ stopped aging altogether."

I stared straight ahead, finding it mildly amusing that what took the doctor a month to decipher Yami told me in five minutes.

"I just can't explain this," he nattered. "This occurrence looks to have arisen when he was fifteen, based on his skeletal charts. I… I had truly felt that I could clear all this up if I could prove that Ryou's wisdom teeth had at least shifted in his jaw during the past few years. However…" he lowered his voice, "his orthodontic files reveal the teeth have remained stationary, testifying that his aging has halted. Even people who never reach a tall stature experience wisdom tooth activity of some sort."

I chuckled deliriously. It all made palpable sense now. The questions that I'd been harboring upon my shoulders for two months had finally been exposed by my dark.

The physician continued succinctly, trying to constrain his urgency. "My colleges and I need to further evaluate your son, Mr. Bakura. We wish to conduct additional examinations to see what exactly can clarify this. I've already contacted well-regarded endocrinologists from around the globe and they're intent on studying Ryou this week."

My alert was rapt. I didn't like the desperation in his tone, nor that he was treating me like a piece of property that could bend to his whim. He didn't say he wanted to examine me – he said he _needed_ to. Bloody fuck… what were he and the other physicians planning to do – subject me to every test known to man like a lab rat? Slice specimens from my body?

"Please call me back at your earliest convenience so we can arrange a date that you can bring him in. It is of utmost importance," and he disconnected.

My lids slid down over my aching eyes. It didn't matter what Hutchinson planned on doing because I sure as hell wasn't going.

Yami had perused all but one of the aged stelai, which he grabbed. "That man has atrocious timing, doesn't he? What a coincidence he called here right after I'd told you the reality." Turning the slab over, he calmly added, "It's best you clean this mess soon. Otherwise the flat will begin reeking something awful."

His grating voice stung my ears, and I peered at him. What had I done to deserve this punishment – to possibly be bound to him forever? Clearly, devastating things, if he was in actuality my original form. If the pharaoh ordered Yami's spirit sealed in the Ring three-thousand years prior, I shuddered to imagine the crimes that precipitated his condemnation…

…crimes of which I was still suffering the consequences.

The racking sound of a strangled gasp caused me to snap my head up. Yami's face had drained of color as he clasped the slab he'd been reviewing with quaking hands. His eyes darted repeatedly over the stone as he speechlessly mouthed the text that had galvanized him.

I had never witnessed the being respond so powerfully, and though I despised him greatly at the moment, my incorrigible, protective side emerged. "Yami, what is it?"

He pried his gaze from the intoxicating find and gaped at me, yet he didn't hold the usual condescending air. Instead, his eyes were round and glistening with a childish innocence as a smile touched his mouth.

Not a sardonic grin, but a genuine smile.

"What's going on, Yami?" I importuned. "Please tell me!"

Nevertheless, he ignored me, as he was far too entranced. Tears began streaking his cheeks as he quietly muttered, "I remember." Before I could question his intangible comeback, he dissolved into incandescent vapor and retreated to the sanctuary of the Ring, leaving me by myself.

I remained silent for half an hour, not once budging from the area of floor where I had allegedly died three hours earlier. I didn't hold the sense to do anything else, as Yami's broaching had paralyzed me.

Once more, I viewed the lustrous gore… the gore that I had theorized would deliver me from my façade of an existence.

After all the turmoil and strife I had been subjected to since I'd been a toddler, was this the ultimate outcome? I dug my fingers into the floor as deplorable grief and fury clashed within me. "It isn't fair – why should I have to be persecuted for something my soul did thousands of years ago?"

I wanted to die. I wanted to drift from my earthly shell and leave my woes behind forever. However, I knew now that was inaccessible to me.

The memory of his comment that had riled me months before inundated my mind:

_"You're not sick, Ryou."_

He had spoken the fact – after all, I wasn't ill, but I was far from normal. He had known all along and let me writhe for two arduous months.

It was then that I wished I had never been born. Though I wasn't using the term loosely, as many people do during bouts of heated discussions; I had very legitimate reasons.

And then, the enormity of it all crashed down on me at once. Unable to stifle my anguish any longer, I bawled, my thin plaints reverberating through the sterile rooms… the sound of the sole surviving Bakura family member.

We had truly been a cursed lot.

I wailed the entire night, finally crying myself to a dreamless sleep just as the sun cast forth its illumination on the horizon, providing a new, crisp day of hope for many.

But I had no hope… not any longer.

It's curious indeed, but even though I had resigned myself to the notion that Yami had granted me a never-ending existence, I felt that my life had ended at far too young an age.

-------------------------------

That's the end of chapter six. Was it shocking?  
After reading this, are you saying to yourself "Why didn't I notice those clues earlier in the previous chapters? Now they're so obvious!"?  
But that's not it - there's still one chapter remaining.

DRD: Okay, it's time to play "Let's Make Ryou's Life a living Hell"!

Ryou: Oh, great! Now you have a name for my torture? Smashing. (looks up when he hears game show-like music coming out of nowhere) Where's that music coming from?

DRD: So, how do you like the way the chapter ended?

Ryou: It was bloody awful! I can't believe you subject me to this misery, DarkRulerDominica! I thought I was one of your favorite characters. (sniffles)

DRD: (Embraces Ryou comfortingly) There, there, Ryou. You _are_ one of my favorite characters! Anyway, any particular part you liked the best?

Ryou: (Sarcastic) Gee, I can't decide! It's all such a plethora of happiness. But seriously, will you be nicer to me in the upcoming final chapter?

DRD: (Pauses) Perhaps. Yami no! Ryou's feeling a little down! Why don't you come get him and make him feel... _better_. (purrs) X3

Yami no: My pleasure, DarkRulerDominica! (runs out and picks up Ryou) Come, host! Let us do an encore of last night's pleasures.

Ryou: Wait a second, Yami! I'm still tired from it!

DRD: (Points dramatically) Aha! So you admit being intimate with him!

Ryou: Uh-I-I.. NO! He... he forced himself on me whilst I was sleeping. Yeah, that's right!

Yami no: Tch! Please! You were the one who initiated the sensuality!

Ryou: No I didn't! And put me down this instant!

Yami no: (Doesn't listen to Ryou and whisks him away, regardless.)

DRD: (Squees)

Here's another fact: the phrase "Anx anx an mit-k" is a text extraction from the ancient Egyptian Book of the Dead from the VIth dynasty.

I'll get the next chapter up soon. Until then, cheers. :)


	7. Resignation

Hello once again!

Well, this is it: the final chapter of Eternity. This one is the largest chapter of this story to date, accounting for a quarter of the tale's length: 46 pages! _Everything_ is answered and revealed in this chapter. It's very emotional; very dark. Blood will flow, poisonous words will be exchanged and shocking secrets will surface! Hooray! Of course, this is an angst fanfic, so it's expected. ;) I'm posting my author's notes here at the beginning, so I'll say nothing at the end of the chapter.

So, after nearly two years, 172 pages (i.e. approximately 80,113 words/ 373,838 characters), Eternity comes to a close. You guys have been great with your reviews - thank you so much! ;D

At the end of the chapter, there's a surprise! I drew this picture when I began penning Eternity in summer 2004. Yes, there are some variations between the outfit in my drawing and images of the outfit in the manga and Animé, but when I drew the picture I had only seen the costume a few times; this was my interpretation! ;D But PLEASE, PLEASE promise that you'll look at the image _after_ you read the chapter! (you'll have to substitute the (dot) with an actual dot.)

Here are some facts: Sekhmet is the Egyptian lion-headed goddess of war and divine vengeance; Isis is the Egyptian goddess of protection; Horus is the falcon-headed Egyptian god who leads the ba, or soul, into the hall of judgment (where the heart is weighed against the feather of the Egyptian goddess Maat); and Ammut is the crocodile-headed, lion-legged and hippopotamus-bodied creature who devours that person's heart if it's heavier than Maat's feather. Also, the ancient Egyptian name for "Egypt" is "Kemi" (it translates into "the black land", referring to the black soil along the Nile river).

In this tale, the events in Pharaoh's Memory/Millennium World have not transpired. When the pharaoh learned his name in this story (supposedly around a year before, right after Battle City) he and Yami no Bakura didn't enter a world of memories; Yami Yugi simply found his identity and regained memory of his past.

Also, the titles all include words that end in "ion". Just wanted to point that out in case you hadn't noticed.

In this chapter, I mention the word "anamnesis", which is the term for the Platonism philosophy explaining that the soul, being immortal, holds on to knowledge it's acquired throughout the millennia. It forgets this knowledge when its mortal body is born, but what people perceive throughout life as learning or déjà vu is in reality the soul recalling its past. If you have the chance, you should read up on it – it's fascinating!

Ryou: (Wearing cute tiger ears on his head) Thank _goodness_! After this chapter you won't be able to subject me to torture or yaoi with Yami. XD

DRD: (Squees) Kawaii! Those are so cute!

Ryou: (Defensive) They aren't cute! They show that I have the ferocious heart of a tiger! That way, Yami will think twice about uke-ing me again.

DRD: Psh! Come on! No seme can resist an uke who's wearing kitty ears. X3 (squeezes furry ears)

Ryou: They're not 'kitty ears'! And think what you want, but these will work to my advantage. I'm tired of being uke.

DRD: So, you want to be seme? ;)

Ryou: Well, yeah... I have a right - WAIT A MINUTE! YOU TRICKED ME INTO SAYING THAT!

DRD: Did I? (winks)

Ryou: Yes! You and your mindgames, DarkRulerDominica! (angry)

DRD: Perhaps Yami no is influencing you to say it. Have you ever thought of that?

Ryou: (Eyes lighting with awareness) You're right! Yeah, he must be the one who makes me say it... and makes me enjoy our intimacy!

DRD: Eh... right! (humoring him, of course)

Yami no: Yes, Ryou, just keep that in your mind whenever you're enjoying my touches all over you.

Ryou: Okay. (removing Yami no's shirt wildly) I'm seme this time, though. Got it?

Yami no: That's fine. Oops, I influenced you to say that. Oh, I'm so naughty! X) And I love those tiger ears!

DRD: Wait! I wanted to get your opinion, Ryou.

Ryou: (Pulls his lips away from his yami's while he's sitting on his lap) What?

DRD: What do you think now that we've reached the last chapter?

Ryou: I think it's great! After this my torture will come to a close.

DRD: But this is the end of the tale. Aren't you sad?

Ryou: (considering this) Oh crap! You're right! I'm not going to have a spotlight on me anymore. :(

DRD: I know. But everything has to come to an end eventually.

Ryou: Criminy.

DRD: Well, you always have your yami. :)

Ryou: Who brainwashes me into desiring his caresses.

DRD: Yes... who brainwashes you into desiring his caresses. 9.9 The both of you may carry on.

-

Well, with all that said, I present the final chapter of Eternity. Enjoy! ;D

P.S. Sorry Yugi and Yami Yugi fans.

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh

_Resignation_

-------

The hot, opaline glare of the sun induced me to crack my watery eyes the next morning. I cradled my pounding cranium in my hand, rebuking myself for guzzling the saké like a drunkard the night before.

At that instant, I received a twinge of hope. Maybe that entire instance with Yami divulging my immortality had been a monstrous hallucination, being how I had been so wankered on the alcohol. However, as soon as I glanced around and found that I was in the gory kitchen, I lost all optimism.

I spent the remainder of the afternoon by taking Yami's advice in the form of mopping up the dried blood. I quietly reflected on my life as I repeatedly dipped the mop into the bucket of scarlet water and sloshed it over the thick stains. Had my suffering and being kind hold no worth in redeeming myself from my past life's transgressions? "No," I mumbled aloud, "I suppose not."

The idea of living forever horrified me. Ever since I could remember I'd recurrently hear people say if they could have one wish granted, it would be to have an infinite existence. I'd always wondered what compelled others to yearn for that. Did they truly desire to continue living as their family and friends died, seasons changed, civilizations rose and crumbled; never changing, never having a prospect of assurance that one day they could escape it?

Of course, Yugi, too, was affected by this curse. I grinned in a deranged manner, imaging the both of us enduring the punishment for millennia to come, being the only things unchanged by time.

My mood darkened, however, when it dawned on me that the one responsible for this blight was Yugi's yami.

---

Dr. Hutchinson fixatedly rang the apartment four additional times before evening. I shirked answering his calls, apprehensive that if I picked up he'd demand my presence at his office within the hour. His messages were growing more desperate, evidential by the domineering way that he spoke.

I weighed my current circumstances: I'd concluded that my father would most likely wither away in his vegetative state than recover, and I didn't want to have the unwelcome surprise of being legally forced to see Hutchinson and his associates via a subpoena. So, having nothing to lose, I purchased an airline ticket back to Japan and, as secretly as possible, absconded from England by week's end.

During the nine-hour flight, I remained reticently introverted. Perhaps the spirit had been joshing me when he told me about my fate. Oh, I knew he had the ability to keep my soul locked in my body, but maybe he had no intention of keeping me alive alongside him.

Yet, I was dismally mindful that he had an uncanny ability at promise keeping.

---

I spent the consecutive three weeks hidden away at home in mental dereliction. I informed no one of my return to Domino, as I didn't want people to hound me concerning what affliction I had, where my father was, or why I had fallen into a severe depression.

I found myself staying in bed for much of the daytime. The world seemed colorless and dead to me, and I longed for nothing more than narcotic-like sleep. Not only that, but when I was awake I was keenly aware that the Ring had become as blatant as a lead weight on my neck.

One Wednesday, I stirred sometime around noon. I rolled onto my back, watching the dust motes as they waltzed lazily in the milky shafts of sunlight peeking through the shutters. Listening to the ever-present ticking of my watch, I re-evaluated my behavior. "What am I doing?" I asked myself in the stale atmosphere. "I can't mope around like this for the rest of my life." Pushing the grimy covers back, I slid my legs over the side of the bed and forced myself to be a part of the living by getting dressed and leaving the house.

From that day forth, I would forever rue that decision.

---

Like my mind, I wandered. I couldn't care less what turmoil was transpiring in the world outside my mind – all I cared about were my personal woes. It was beyond me how it was even humanly possible there could be any problems besides mine. Everything else was trifle compared against my ginormous quandary. Nothing seemed real to me anymore as I disquietly trod the pavement, observing people busily carrying out their lives. And as these strangers passed me by, I couldn't help but sense a scorching umbrage towards them deep within my core. _It's not fair they'll get to die eventually,_ I festered internally. _Why couldn't one of them be Yami's incarnation?_

The sun continually slipped behind a soupy covering of clouds, and its diffused light intensified the mugginess of the late-summer afternoon. Drained from the heat, I made my way to a park and lowered myself on a bench. I drew the warm air into my lungs and shut my eyes, listening to the shrill chirps of birds. As I admired the songs, my cogitating drifted back to Dad. Whatever happened to him? I tilted my head down, feeling the sun baking the back of my skull. Had he have reacted the same way he did to seeing Yami had it been on less hectic terms? Was I to blame for his coma because I had gotten him so riled up during the argument? I screwed my face as the unendurable memories stirred afresh in my brain. Why had I agreed with that doctor to see Dad? Because I had, not only was my final recollection of my father the ineradicable image of him hooked to machines like a horrific science experiment, but also his accusing me of being an evil spirit.

My thoughts then shifted to Angela… my dear, sweet Angela. I had always fancied the notion that one day we would wed each other and start a family, but all chances of that aspiration had been pulverized due to Yami's reprehensible act.

What scared me most, though, were the tomb robber's words that looped in my mind like a broken record. Why hadn't I made an effort at liberating myself from his mental restraints during the attack? As soon as the following conjecture surfaced, I tried my damnedest to drive it from my mind:

Had I not cared whether or not Yami deflowered her? Had _I_ not cared that my shell had deflowered her?

I envisaged what transpired during the rape: me holding her down, her quivering body beneath mine, the taste of her neck between my lips….

Horrifyingly, I felt the heat of arousal engorging me. I rashly shunted the ideas, worried if my body's reaction just then was because Yami had indoctrinated me with his assertion about me being a sexual predator millennia ago, or because what he had said was true….

The peace was annulled suddenly as I heard a group of voices in the vicinity that caused the birds to take flight. I knew the voices, but the last thing I wanted to do was converse with the owners. I hypothesized darting away before I was noticed, but my hesitation cost me.

"Hey, look! It's Bakura!" Yugi yelled enthusiastically.

I cringed inside as a stampede of feet bolting my way replaced the surprised remarks. I wasn't in the frame of mind to maintain an audience.

"Kon'nichi wa," I taciturnly mumbled without looking up. I seriously didn't think I could bear to see their damned, smiling faces whilst I was so miserable.

Without a shred of consideration, Joey uncouthly plopped down on the unoccupied area of the bench beside me and slapped my back. "Man, Bakura, it's great to see ya again! We've missed ya!" he prattled, grinning. "We never thought ya'd come back to Domino with all the time ya'd spent in England – right guys?" he addressed the others in his rough Japanese.

"Oh, I knew he'd return," Tristan said, squeezing my shoulder affably. For a millisecond, I was inclined to slap his hand from me.

"Sure, whateva," Joey smirked. "I musta counted a dozen times when ya were upset and saying he might not come home."

"It was not a 'dozen times', idiot!" he rebutted hotly.

"You're right - forgive me; it was more like _two_ dozen times, nimrod!"

The droning squabbling, which I usually disregarded, got under my skin and I finally snapped, "Just drop it, all right?! You've only seen me for no more than one minute and you're already waffling about! It's a bloody mindfuck!"

At once, they both ceased, taken aback. "S-sure. Sorry, man," Tristan stammered.

Téa's face was buried in her hands as heaving sobs racked her body. "Well, I didn't think you would return," she moaned, her voice distorted behind her hands. "I thought… I thought the doctors in England had diagnosed you with something terminal," she sniffled, un-shielding her blotchy face.

I fixed my eyes upon her with flagrant surliness. "Why would you think something stupid like that, Téa?"

"Hey, go easy on her, Bakura," Joey mediated. "Girls are just like that – always worrying if others are okay."

Téa's face went beet red and she awkwardly voiced, "We never heard from you…. Why didn't you call any of us?! You never even communicated that you'd gotten there all right!"

It only occurred to me then that I hadn't. Nevertheless, it was water under the bridge at this point, so I felt no obligation to make amends for my spacing to correspond with them. "Well, I'm not dead, if that's what you were afraid of," I said, doing little to stifle the rancor in my voice as I remembered what I had done the night Dad was hospitalized. I had to say it. "I'll… I'll never die."

Yugi's smile relaxed. "What?" he chuckled flatly.

I continued staring at the ground, irresolute to impart. "I discovered why I look just as I did when I was fifteen," I quietly intoned, my eyes stinging as I grappled with the abysmal words. "I don't have any malady. It's…." I breathed thinly as bitter heat constricted my throat. "Yami's keeping me this way."

I looked up expectantly at their quizzical faces. "What do you mean?" Tristan asked.

Losing my temper due to his moronity, I spat, "You thick-headed whelk! It means he's never going to let me die!" The words burned in my ears as I fought the choking splutters. "Is that easy enough for you to understand, Tristan?!" I broke down completely as the tears won. "Do you understand?" I blarted hysterically.

"Please, do not fret," Pharaoh Atemu softly consoled. "Disregard any lies the tomb robber has told you. He can't keep you bound to the earth – even I lack such power."

I sniffed loudly, his absurd words sinking into my mind. "You don't believe me?!" I shrieked, digging in my pocket. "I'll be more than glad to give you a demonstration!" and before any of them could intercede, I dug the dagger Yami had given me three months prior fiercely into my wrist.

Téa screamed as my blood sprayed from the wound and began saturating the ground. Joey pitched headlong forward and wrapped my arm in his shirt. "Call an ambulance!" he shrieked, the fabric rapidly staining.

"Don't be daft!" I screeched, wrestling him away with my uninjured arm. "I'm trying to show you this!"

The group gaped at me with alarmed eyes, clearly fearing my sanity. "Bakura, you're not immortal. You're going to die if we don't get you to a hospital!" Yugi cried, his voice rising.

I shook my head, not only as an objection, but also to clear my failing vision. "Trust me on this! Please!" I moaned through clenched teeth, struggling to retain consciousness.

Joey inched backwards. "He's gone freakin' nuts…."

Irrespective of being rattled, the pharaoh kept his penetrating gaze on me. And then, exuding that mystical wisdom of his, he dipped his head. "I trust in you, Bakura."

This reply triggered all eyes to fall on him incredulously. Téa, in the process of dialing the hospital on her cell phone, ceased. "Are you crazy?! He just tore open his own arm!"

His eyes averted from mine and he studied her. "We have no choice."

My energy speedily depleted as each pulsing gush of my life left my arm. I fell on all fours, my knees and hands swimming in the warm liquid. Throughout the ordeal, I resisted the urge to pass out. Criminy, if I did those simpletons would have me rushed to the hospital, where I'd be pronounced dead, and then embalmed. Nevertheless, I unmistakably had gained willpower from knowing I couldn't perish, for I succeeded in staying somewhat alert, despite that my brain's supply of blood was no more.

The appalling seconds switched to excruciating minutes as I waited for the blood to drain from my body. The dirt had absorbed an abundance of it and was now a slippery, ruby-colored mud. It took a tremendous effort, but I shifted my eyes towards the gash and was relieved to see that the flow had reduced to a weak oozing. "Th-there," I stammered through chattering teeth. "I've l-lost most of my blood, yet I'm s-still alive!" I managed to peer up at them through my bangs, and the horrified expressions their faces held were indissolubly branded in my mind.

Concurrently, the Ring radiated against my chest, and the next moment the gouge was healed, replaced by an indiscernible scar. Concentrating intensely so as I wouldn't collapse, I showed the galvanized group my wrist.

A preternatural hush befell them as the icy truth sunk in. "Good Ra," the pharaoh breathed quietly, the tips of his hair quivering.

I densely became aware that somebody hefted me under the arms and began guiding me somewhere. "C'mon, Joey – let's take him over there," I heard Tristan staidly mutter. I tried supporting myself, but my uncoordinated legs tangled beneath me.

"No, don't try standing, Bakura. We got ya," Joey assured.

They propped my limp body against a tree, and Tristan draped his trench coat over me. I lethargically looked up at the group and said, "Now that you b-believe me, I-I'll tell you how t-this happened."

So I did – I told them everything that had occurred whilst I had been in England, including the instances regarding Dad and Angela. As I related deeper into the tale, the pharaoh's countenance melded from that of horror to outrage. By the time I completed the recollection, some of my energy had returned. "And then, you all happened upon me today," I concluded stolidly.

They gawked at me as though in a stunned trance. Joey's eyes were vapid as he regarded me with pity. "I'm… I'm sorry, man. I had no idea… I thought ya just looked really young."

"I wish it was that straightforward." I sighed and leaned my head back against the bark. "He's keeping me in this supernatural state." I looked up at Yugi and Atemu incisively. "When did you say your grandfather gave you the Puzzle, Yugi? Weren't you about eleven?"

Yugi's face searched blankly. "Y-yeah. I was eleven years and two months. Why -" he ceased mid-sentence as his eyes bulged with comprehension.

"That explains why you appear to be a child. Yami shared with me that when a Millennium Item is united with a rightful owner, the occupying spirit latches onto the acquired host and unwittingly stops the aging process."

The pharaoh's face was drawn as he wildly looked from me to Yugi. "I didn't know – I didn't realize that I had halted your aging, Yugi…."

I staggered to my feet. "Of course you didn't, Pharaoh. You certainly aren't the type who would intentionally force an innocent person to live forever." I handed the blood-streaked coat back to Tristan solemnly. "Once the yami realizes what he's doing to the host's body, he can either allow aging to start again…" I smiled lamentably, "… or not."

Atemu opened his mouth, yet no words escaped. He humbly shifted his eyes from mine and focused on Yugi. "Please forgive me for unknowingly suspending you from growing older, my aibou. I shall permit it no more."

Yugi bit his lip and nodded.

My ire spiked. There it was again: their congruous bond that drove me mad with covetousness.

The pharaoh then spun to me and eyed the Ring irately. "Tomb Robber!" he boomed, causing us all to start. "I demand you reveal yourself this instant!"

He needn't ask twice. A blinding light poured from the Item, and Yami materialized before us. His arrival, not surprisingly, incited everyone but the pharaoh and I to distance themselves from him hastily. They were all too wary of his aggressive, impulsive demeanor, and they didn't wish to gamble their safety. However, he barely paid the group any heed. "Hello, Pharaoh," he stated, stretching out his arms laggardly. "You screamed?"

"Do not speak to me in that cocky manner!" he thundered, his escalating blood pressure visible in his tinged cheeks.

Yami barked a harsh laugh. "Don't tell me you're still miffed from our last interaction, Pharaoh! It was our duel aboard the dirigible, correct?"

The spirit's eyes rounded with vitriol. "Enough of your idle banter! Why have you taken it upon yourself to restrain Bakura to life?"

Yami's smile faded slightly as he deliberated the words. "What a stilted hypocrite you are," he finally simpered.

"What?!"

My darker half shrugged. "I'm only doing to Ryou what you had done to me. And yet, you condemn _my_ actions."

The spirit of the Puzzle surveyed him stringently. "There is a major difference between yours and Bakura's circumstances of punishment, though. I sealed your soul in the Ring as retribution for the crimes you committed against the gods and Egypt; you, on the other hand have no reason to toy with Bakura's soul, other than to feed your unquenchable lust for dominance."

The tension in the atmosphere was nearly tangible. I was afraid to peer at Yami's resultant expression following that quip. "Who are you to speak of an unquenchable lust for dominance, Atemu? Is it not you who judges people with your Millennium Puzzle, deeming who is innocent and who deserves castigation for their wrongdoings? If memory serves me accurately, would you not gloat to Yugi no less than three years ago about your 'heroisms' of blinding and deafening antagonists during your little 'Penalty Games?'"

Yugi looked pained as he turned his attention to me. "I told you that in confidence, Bakura! Why'd you tell him?"

I never had – Yami had undeniably reaped it from my thoughts. Before I could speak my defence, though, Yami sneered at Yugi. "Really, child – do you presume that I must rely on Ryou's spoken input to get access to his thoughts?" He then fixed his vision on the pharaoh strictly. "And you… you're a sad sack. If anyone has an addiction with leching for prepotency over others, it's you."

Yugi's dark was aghast. "Do not contort the virtue of my acts into the vile madness of yours!" he stormed. "You know damn well as I that our reasons are on entirely different planes!"

A chuckle seeped through Yami's grin, prompting Yugi to seek refuge closer to his other. "For how much longer will your noble charade endure, I wonder?" my dark queried. "You claim that your passing judgment on others is a valiant act on your part, but don't you admit that you savor the rush of absolute supremacy you experience when you realize that the life of the person you are evaluating lays in your hands? Do you not feel the ecstasy of control when you at last terminate their existence, when only a moment before they were groveling at your feet, begging for clemency? It's as though you're a god."

The pharaoh appeared unhinged. "How dare… how dare you?!" he managed to splutter.

"You'd better keep that choleric temper in line - you won't be sending a positive example to Yugi, otherwise."

Atemu squeezed his balled fists tightly against his sides. "Do not digress this conversation away from the subject, Thief! I'll ask you once more why you've constrained the boy to life!"

Yami rolled his eyes. "Must you always address me as 'Thief' or 'Tomb Robber'? Here's something a tad more congenial: Antumetep."

My life ended right there.

"What?!" the pharaoh choked out, his face blanching.

It was as if ice water had splashed down my spine as soon as I heard it. I stared at Yami, unable to comprehend what he'd just uttered. "What?"

He parried his attention from the other spirit and coolly acknowledged me. "Antumetep," he reiterated quietly.

Although my eyes were directed at his, my vision was unfocused, my breathing subdued. "Antumetep," I enunciated, as if tasting this unknown word that, baffling enough, felt so familiar on my tongue. I couldn't put my finger on it but there was something so highly significant about that phrase that it dredged something buried inside my being. I focused on Yami's face, when right away a hazy image entered my mind's eye, as though it was a nearly forgotten childhood recollection: I was standing in a bright field next to a tanned, exotic woman. Based on her facial structure and her clothing she looked ancient Egyptian, and even though I had never seen her before, her beautiful face comforted me. She smiled and opened her mouth to speak whilst handing me a lotus, but I could hear not one of her words. The vision abruptly ended, but my mind began to fill with a barrage of patchy pictures:

a man on horseback slashing my face with a knife;

a red desert;

myself attacking somebody.

_Are these memories?_ I pondered. _No, that's preposterous - they can't be mi- _

I never completed my thought as the full force of the significance hit me like a hurtled stone. I peered at Yami once more, understanding perfectly. "Antumetep was my name, wasn't it?"

"It was _our_ name," he concurred, nodding.

I had the sensation that my entrails had been jerked though my naval. "How-"

"Remember when I informed you of your immortality that night in the flat? I saw my name carved in the text of that tablet; it told of my villainous deeds during my life." He sneered defiantly at the pharaoh. "It seems you're not the only spirit who can regain his memories, Atemu."

A spiraling effect had commenced. In that peripheral room I happened upon in the soul hallway, I'd heard that voice say "Antu", but never understood the correlation. _That chamber must contain remembrances only my subconscious knows,_ I surmised, but just then, something dreadful began to occur. I gave a sharp laugh of sheer disbelief. "Yes, I remember now - I was Antumetep, the thief king!" I attested brightly, the lucid recollections of my soul giving me confirmation. "I was a great tomb robber and I wanted to possess all seven Millennium Items, and I almost did, until… until…." I faltered, unable to see a clear image in my mind.

"Think, Antumetep," my other half encouraged.

Bogglingly, when he referred to me by that name I didn't mind. Nonetheless, I remained at a lost regarding the mystery of my past…

… that is, until Yugi's yami placed a hand on my arm. "Just calm down, Bakura," he said shakily.

I glanced at him for the first time since hearing the name. No sooner than I did, a seething hatred filled my being as another reminiscence, a terribly violent one, entered my brain. "You!" I hissed acidly.

He surveyed me with those unnervingly large, violet eyes, befuddled. Without thinking, I struck his hand away from me.

He stumbled back, bowled over by my action. "Bakura! What is the meaning of this?!"

Even to this day, I can't give an answer that exonerated my behavior… nothing that doesn't sound like it wasn't born from the mind of a madman, at least. All I knew was the spite that coursed through me was directed at him, and before I could examine the irrationality of my decisions, I thrust my finger dramatically in his direction. "Until you had me beheaded, Pharaoh!" I snarled, my unlived memory of the execution three-thousand years earlier replaying fresh in my mind.

Tristan impetuously moved forward and placed himself between the pharaoh and I. "Hey, Bakura, chill out," he said sternly, looking at me with great apprehension.

However, I was too enraged to let Tristan's paltry coercion sway me. Unabated, I made to advance towards the spirit, but the overzealous punk seized my arm roughly. "I said stop!"

I snapped my head up to face him; my expression must have been murderous, for he jerked his hand from me as though my body was red-hot iron.

I couldn't fathom what was happening to me. These experiences from before I was alive were motivating my aggravated comportment towards the pharaoh, but inscrutably enough, I felt by doing so I was lifting a tremendous hindrance from my back that I'd been lugging since meeting him. I kept my stance wide, allowing the toxic words to spill from my lips. "I had everything," I said in a breathless whisper. "There were no riches safe from me, no tomb impenetrable against my skills." I raised my palm towards my flushed face and curled my fingers into a determined fist. "Knowledge of my talent was known throughout Kemi and the surrounding lands, and mention of my very name evoked fear, even in other bandits. How uncanny it is that though I was a master of thievery, _you_, Pharaoh, were the one who robbed _me_ of my power!" It's funny; had I been learning about Yami's past, or my past, whichever you prefer, under casual circumstances, I probably would have been intrigued by the details. However, the fact that these recollections had surfaced after eons in my mind, allthewhile the desire to harm the pharaoh besetting me, I felt my reasoning ripped asunder, and there was nothing I could do to impede it.

"Bakura," Yugi's yami spoke quietly, "the spirit of the Ring is playing a sadistic trick on your mind."

I lowered my chin and shook my head deliberately. "No, these words are all my own," I calmly protested.

Clenching his teeth, he turned his attention to Yami. "Tomb Robber!" he shouted, his ireful voice quavering, "I demand that you release the boy's mind from whatever manipulations you've placed it in!"

I turned my head up and growled, "Keep my other half out of this, Atemu! This discussion is between you and I!"

Yugi, who'd been silent during this transaction, ran to his other's side and grabbed his jacket to intervene. "Spirit, please, let's leave!" He hesitantly glanced at me with dilated eyes before he tugged at the specter's uniform once more. "Something's wrong with Bakura. I'm afraid he might…." He broke off, wiping his sleeve against his gathering tears. "Let's go. Now!"

He regarded Yugi before firmly saying, "No. If Bakura is indeed being truthful that he is somehow reliving his past, and I am the cause of his grief, then I'm entailed to face him." Yugi opened his mouth, but his dark gave him a pointed look. "More than anything, my aibou, I need you to have conviction in me and not interfere right now," he smiled propitiously whilst gently prying Yugi's hands off his jacket.

I registered movement behind Yami and I, and just as I prepared to take a gander, the pharaoh said, "Tristan and Joey, that goes for you, too."

Yami rounded on the two and scrutinized them. "Planning to restrain me?" he chuckled churlishly.

"Hell yeah, ya nutcase!" Joey bit, raising a shaking fist at Yami. "I don't know what the fuck you're doing to Bakura, but we're gonna stop ya!" Tristan nodded his approval, despite that beads of perspiration trickled down his temple.

"Oh really?" Yami dryly asked. Glimpsing Joey's arm, he said, "I see that your fist is prepared to deal a blow." A wry smile stretched his pale lips. "Go on, Wheeler – I dare you strike me. Or are you not man enough?" I saw, and Joey did as well, Yami cannily inching his fingers towards his pocket containing his gold dagger.

Joey stood his ground, suddenly diffident to confront the thief. "No. You're up ta somethin'."

"Hmm, you are indeed wise, Wheeler," Yami snidely whispered. "If you had advanced so much as one step, I would have slit your unworthy belly before you had even taken a breath to scream." He then laughed at the sickly pallor that developed on Joey's face, and I, too, was amused by the hoodlum's shaken expression.

"Bakura," the pharaoh said quietly, and I spun back to face him. "You left me no choice concerning your execution. You were attempting to desecrate my father's body."

"And what harm is one soul lost of the person who ordered ninety-nine lives to end?!" I growled, saliva spraying from my mouth.

"What do you m-"

"You ask far too many questions, Pharaoh," I hoityly interrupted. "How can you justifiably call yourself a venerated ruler if you must perpetually request answers from others?" His face reddened as he strove to maintain his temper. Nevertheless, he remained mum, allowing me to elaborate. My head lolled back on my shoulders and I closed my heavy lids, the faint rustling of the trees' leaves soothing me. "I can recall it so vividly, as though it happened a mere hour ago. My village was a community of poor farmers... nothing more." I turned my head downwards, peering at nothing in particular. "I remember that afternoon when I spotted the royal caravan and guards approaching from the north. The other villagers jubilantly prepared for Pharaoh Akhenamkhanen's unannounced arrival, dolling themselves up, scraping together every bit of food and jewelry as offerings." I sharply drew a breath between my teeth. "I was only six, but I knew something was awry, and the only thought that ran through my mind was 'Why is the pharaoh coming to visit _our_ village? We've nothing to give him.'" I bore holes through the brooding spirit of the Puzzle, my lips curling into an ironic smile. "Little did I know that my village of one-hundred impoverished inhabitants was replete in exactly what your father desired, Atemu!" The smile slipping, I cast my eyes down once more. "Already a painfully shy child, I hid in my family's hut. I could hear the horses snorting as the villagers greeted the pharaoh and his son, and just as I reckoned the situation hospitable… the carnage began."

I paused the recounting and gazed back at Yami as I witnessed the horrid images that followed. I had heard him periodically mention something about a raid on his village, but I never knew it was an all-out extermination of his people…

... no – of our people.

_/It wasn't just a few that were killed? The entire population was taken?/_ I asked via the mind-link, oblivious to my tears.

He turned his face away, ashamed, his body aquiver._ /No… not the entire village. There was one survivor./_

And I was looking at that lone survivor. I remained terribly quiet, digesting the memories that refused to remain inhibited. "I was mortified. I cowered beneath the window," I verbalized flatly. "The stench of blood and smoke stung my nostrils. I covered my ears to block out the gurgling cries… but in the pandemonium two voices beckoned me." I buried my face in my hands as the images played before my eyes, nearly making me blind to my current surroundings. "I ran outside and found myself besieged by butchery. Bodies were still twitching as blood leaked from their gashes. I called out to my mother and sister as I felt my way through the smoke. Allthewhile, I heard the guards slicing through the flesh of the living just beyond my sight. When I reached a clearing, I saw my mother and sister…" I lowered my voice, "… but it was too late. My sister was sprawled on the sand, but I could tell she was dead – her eyes had no light in them." I promptly recognized the woman who had handed me the flower, and this time I knew, indubitably, who she was. "My mother was hysterical and tried to reach my sister… but… a guard rushed her and ran his sword through her chest." I looked skyward as the tears drowned my eyes. "I… crawled to her side and tried to cover the wound, but her blood gushed between my fingers. I called out for help, any kind of help, but the only sounds I heard were the guards continuing the slaughter. Every time they killed someone, each screamed a number; a person would fall: 'Ninety-one!'; another killed, then, 'Ninety-two!'

"They… they were counting the people they felled," Atemu analyzed statically.

I stared at him impassively. "You think?" Whether or not he identified my sarcasm, I couldn't care less, and I persisted. "I thought I'd lose my mind, and I shrunk against my mother's bosom." I closed my lids and the burning tears flowed to my chin and down my neck in torrents. "Her final words to me were: 'If you survive, my precious Antumetep, may Sekhmet give you strength. Promise me you'll survive!' I couldn't think properly, but I whispered, 'I promise'. Then… then she was gone." Instinctively, my hand lightly touched my right lower eyelid. "I wailed, but right then a guard on horseback sliced through the right side of my face with a blade."

_A man on horseback slashing my face with a knife._

"Wait, that's right, I _did_ have a scar on my face, didn't I?" I mumbled to myself, running my finger down my cheek, feeling for any trace of the cicatrix. "I fell backwards, and he dismounted. He jerked my head up by my hair and pressed that cold blade against my throat, and just when I thought my life was over, another guard intercepted. He told my attacker that ninety-nine souls had already been collected and if any more were procured the pharaoh's Millennium Items couldn't be forged accurately. The other was infuriated by this, but complied with his cohort and shoved me to the ground before they all departed." I wrapped my sweaty fingers around the Ring's rim. "It was at that moment that I began processing what the guard had said, and after that I saw your father, as well as you, Atemu, in a tainted light."

The spirit suspired despairingly. "Yes, I remember that… incident now." He shifted his eyes between Yami and me and charily stated, "I can understand your hostility towards my father, Bakura. But what justifies your odium towards me? I was nothing more than a spectator that day."

My lips twisted into a calculating smile. "Were you?" He blinked dumbly and I laughed. "Your father may have commissioned the genocide, true, but you did the most damage," I shrugged, "to me, anyway."

He crossed his arms defiantly. "Explain."

"Don't mind if I do," I purred. "Whilst I held my dying mother, and the community I grew up amongst was systematically jugulated, I caught sight of you, the pharaoh's pampered son, swathed in fine silks and jewels, atop your proud steed. You appeared unimpressed, and as I was saturated with my mother's blood, your gaze met mine. Do you recall what you did after that, Pharaoh?"

"I… I looked away," he confessed, guilt dripping from each word.

"Correct. You tore your eyes from mine like a shot and whined, 'I'm bored, father! I want to go back home!'" I sharply snorted. "You spoke as carelessly as though you had participated with your father and his hounds in hunting jackals." I took a step forward, and Tristan allowed me a wide berth. "Was that all we were to you? Scurvy jackals? Had the pursuit grown dull for the spoilt prince and he longed for home?" I shook my head mournfully. "I knew I couldn't return home; there was nothing left. Even if the guards hadn't incinerated the huts, it was all destroyed… do you know what I mean?" My insides felt cold, prompting me to hug myself. "That's why I hate you, Pharaoh. You lived, whilst I died. My life didn't end when you ordered my execution fourteen years later – it occurred that fateful day in my village."

The pharaoh wiped his eyes with his hand. "I… I don't know what to say, except that I apologize."

I was unmoved and found his weakness irksome. "Am I supposed to feel honored that the illustrious pharaoh has bestowed an apology unto me, a mere commoner? Words cannot undo what was done!"

Yugi subtly tugged Atemu's arm, but I caught sight of the movement. I abhorrently scrutinized him before addressing his other. "After the royal caravan left, I remained near my mother and sister's bodies. I was in mental shock." I pressed my face hard into my hand, my eyes dimly studying my blood-drenched shoes through the spread fingers. "My senses were assailed: all I could smell was burnt human flesh and hair; the only thing I could hear aside from the wind was total silence; I could only taste my tears and wet breath; my skin was numb – I felt nothing, not even the flies biting me; and all I could do was stare at the stained sand before me."

_The red desert that I had seen during my recollection of hearing my ancient name, as well as during my reverie on the jet two months earlier._

"A storm ravaged the land that night, yet I stayed with them. The intuition of time left me; I had no idea how long I remained with the corpses, but, strangely, I began to experience tranquility surrounded by death – so much in fact that I hungered greatly to join them. Alas, I remembered my promise to my mother. Finally, on the day I thought I could no longer stand the stench emanating from the cadavers, a band of thieves happened upon the ruins of my village in search of valuables. Instead, they found me, the 'white-haired demon', as they so expressively put it. They recruited me into their family and began the task of educating me in the ideologies and repertories of a bandit." I smiled nostalgically. "Oh Ra, I was a blundering thief in the beginning, and the instructors were constantly beating sense into me." I locked my eyes on Yugi's yami and discreetly slid my foot closer to him. "But my abilities steadily improved – enough that _I_ started educating the instructors. I was not only a prodigy, but volatile… and the others grew uneasy in my presence. I knew they were cognizant enough to know that I wouldn't have been too receptive at being chucked out of their group so, naturally, I wasn't the least bit surprised when one of the leaders made an effort to murder me."

Joey feigned bravery by spouting, "Yeah, and it's a bummer they never did the job."

Téa and Tristan hissed at him to shush, and when I turned to examine the hullabaloo, I saw that he hadn't addressed Yami, but rather, me.

I cracked a feeble smile and let my head fall.

These revived mists of memories, forged by either sorcery, my soul's account, or madness, were now causing my friends to loathe me. But, if they truly were my friends, nothing I said or did would induce our bonds to fray.

Thus, the doltish buffoons never had been my comrades.

Ostracized and forsaken… as always.

Not allowing Joey the satisfaction of acknowledgment, I carried on. "I had been sleeping, but a movement of air against my neck woke me instantly. The sight before me had been the leader, about to cut my throat. However, I'd anticipated this for some time and had begun sleeping with my dagger concealed in my robe's sleeve. I certainly shocked him when I flicked out the blade and plunged it into his forehead! I then abandoned my foster family and set out on my own. None could compete against me, and during those years my mastery of crime made my name synonymous with power, as well as death." Once more, I shrewdly gained a centimeter between the pharaoh and myself, unblinking. "As wonderful as a spectator might have taken my everyday life to be, it was merely supplemental, as I had something much bigger plotted." I pushed my hair away from my flushed forehead and cheeks, and I eyed the pharaoh manically. "A great dream… an ultimate goal I was willing to sacrifice everything to fulfill, even if it meant infinite punishment from the gods." My tone dropped to barely more than a fearsome whisper. "To murder Pharaoh Atemu with my bare hands!"

"Enough!" the spirit roared, breaking free from Yugi's restraint. Thrusting a finger in Yami's direction, he seethed, "You are the one provoking Bakura to speak in this repugnant manner through mental contagion! Do not deny it!"

"Our name is _not_ Bakura," I countered, steadily feeling the layers of my patience slipping. "It is Antumetep."

"Why are you saying that?!" he cried. "Don't you see that he's feeding your memories lies, Bakura? Your name is _not_ Antumetep, and you never were a thief in ancient Egypt! You are Ryou Bakura from England!"

"You're my friend," Yugi added in a breathless voice as tears dripped from his eyes.

I paid Yugi's words no mind, for I knew they were spurious, intent on deceiving me further…

…intended to distract me from what I needed to accomplish.

"When the news of your father's death spread throughout the kingdom, I knew that my time for retaliation grew near. During the forty-day mummification process I honed my skills to sharp accuracy, for I couldn't chance any blunders." I was amused by the pharaoh's malicious face and Yugi's terrified one as I delved deeper into my reminiscences. "The night the royal tomb was sealed, I eluded all of the security traps and entered, chastising the old, dead bastard that decades of careful preparation for ensuring a perfect afterlife had been foiled… all thanks to me!"

Atemu balled his hands into blanching fists. "How dare you speak of my father in that denigrating manner?!"

"And what are you going to do to stop me?" I flouted. "In case you're unaware, you no longer rule." I laughed, my action sounding eerie in my ears, yet I couldn't help myself – I was too embroiled in the emotions and suppressed recollections of my soul. "I stole the pharaoh's mummy with the intention of desecrating it before you, just to…" I halted, wiping my tears away, before I fumed, "… just to show you what it's like to have a loved one ripped away from you by senseless brutality! I was destined to carry out the task, as I was the sole survivor of my village, its avenging angel." I took another step towards the spirit, although this time I wasn't as covert as before. "I desired that you and he observe what his foolish choice years before had created…" and I lightly touched my chest. "Me."

"That… is… enough!" he ground through his teeth, unable to keep his temper quelled any longer. Knocking Yugi's hands from his jacket, the pharaoh growled, "I don't care if this impertinence is a result of your degraded memories from millennia ago! You are being out of line!"

"Ooh… sounds like someone's getting angry," I chided, relishing just how far I could push him.

"Bakura," he snarled, raising a quaking finger my way. "If you do not desist with your petulance, so help me, I'll-"

"You'll what?" I calmly interrupted. "Kill me?" I chortled brazenly, prompting Téa, Tristan and Joey to further distance themselves from me. "You already had your guards execute me thousands of years ago, you lily-livered wankshaft." I noticed the distance between us now: no more than three meters. "You stand there, wittering on about presumptively murdering me, but don't you see that your words are nothing but hollow, hot air? You already ended my life, stole my family, and had me condemned. There is nothing more you can do to me." I stepped foreword once more. "Your hackneyed threats are as harmless as a fangless serpent, Atemu; I fear you no longer."

And for the first time ever, he, the audacious king of games, looked frightened. As though just realizing how close I was to him, he inched backwards, simultaneously endeavoring to keep an unruffled front.

I lowered my head, permitting the ancient recollections to be known. "After I had slipped into the royal palace, I had to navigate my way through the corridors undetected as I drug about the corpse. Unfortunately, I did run into confrontations with a guard occasionally, but I was able to slit their necks before they could notify others of my whereabouts."

_Myself attacking somebody._

At that moment, I paused my account of the events and pulled the Ring out from my shirt. "One of my victims was a high priest, but unlike the guards, he came with a prize… this ring." I held up the cord, the pendant rotating in the sultry breeze. "Of course, I thought it nothing more than a piece of gold jewelry, so I slipped it on. I discovered the hidden power that it contained, however, when a group of guards came upon me. I was skilled at fighting, yes, but even I knew I was grossly outnumbered. Just when I thought my task had been nullified, the ring began glowing and the hall filled with an intense flash of light. When it subsided, I saw the group strewn on the floor. Only when I approached did I determine they were dead." I tucked the artifact back under my top and surreptitiously neared Atemu still. "I put two and two together and deduced the pendant's ability. After that, anyone who stood between me and your throne room suffered the wrath of my new treasure."

Yugi had become greatly distressed. "Ryou," he cried weakly, his tears falling in thick globules, "you have to stop dwelling on your memories… please…."

But I ignored him, despite my burning urge to slap him to shut up his piss-ass whining. "I kicked open the throne room's door and made my entry. There you were, Atemu, sitting high and mighty upon the throne you had ascended no more than forty days earlier owing to your father's death. I dropped his body and confronted you, demanding why you and he had massacred my family and village, threatening to incinerate the corpse when you refused to answer." I fixed him with a pained grimace. "You never did tell me the reason. Why?"

His eyes trawled deeply for an answer. "Because…" he said quietly, "… because I couldn't explain my father's madness at contracting the Millennium Items' forging."

"It still didn't sanction your guilt!"

"I was guilty of nothing! I told you that I was purely a witness during your village's annihilation!"

I processed his words and bobbed my head knowingly. "No doubt you knew the journey's purpose prior to leaving the palace. A young prince who wishes to see commoners murdered doesn't sound all that scrupulous." I tilted my head. "Don't you agree, Atemu?"

"Bakura-" he began.

I didn't waste my breath again disclosing his stupidity. "So you ordered your soldiers to attack me, but I made quick work of them with my ring." I leered at him. "I'll never forget your face when you saw that happen! Your mouth was all agape and you spluttered, 'He has the Millennium Ring!'" My expression darkened. "I recognized the term instantly, recalling hearing about the so-called 'Millennium Items' from the guard who had prevented my death years prior. It turned out that my new weapon was not only a blessing, but a curse. I was impelled to rip the damned thing from my neck, but I sensed a sort of protection radiating from it." I kept my vision plastered on the pharaoh's, waiting for an opportune moment. "How ironic that the very item that had sprung my hatred for you allowed me to make my revenge liable… how sharper the wounds when we have supplied the means to make them possible," I mocked reproachfully.

He looked as though he wanted to murder me, and I'm positive he would have tried had Yugi not been present.

My breath shuddered as I continued. "I saw the remaining five of your trained high priests displaying the other Pieces, and I was about to command they relinquish them to me straight away, as they were rightfully mine. However, I hadn't noticed that that guard had snuck behind me and landed a blow on my head. I was restrained by the remaining men in a heartbeat." I squeezed my brow sullenly. "Not only did you order the soles of my feet be flayed a hundred times, you said I was to be executed."

"And that was understandable – not only had you defiled my father's tomb, but you trespassed into the palace and murdered my servants – it was only logical you got your comeuppance," he stated authoritatively. "I was also aware of your egregious status throughout Egypt and knew that your reign of terror had to end."

I shook my head woefully. "And who were you to judge me? To cripple me? To kill me? You had no right. I had to break my promise to her because of you." I suddenly recalled my dream from the airplane excursion to England… about "keeping my promise to her".

"Who?"

"My mother."

Any moment then….

"After the beating, you had me brought before you so you could witness my demise. You made some smart-ass remark that my soul should be sealed along with my peoples' in the Ring."

He nodded pensively. "Yes. I said that being as you had admired the Item's power so much, and since you longed for your family, then perhaps you should spend eternity imprisoned within it, alongside the remnants of the villagers' spirits."

I derisively snorted. "How thoughtful of you! You're a right humanitarian, you know that?" I took another crafty step. "When the executioners forced my head to the ground, I noticed that you also donned a Millennium Piece, Pharaoh. Though I'd never seen your Puzzle's ability, I wagered that it indeed did possess the power to trap my soul in the Ring. Right as my final moment arrived, as you gave the word to drop the blade, it dawned on me that my Piece could more than likely do the same to you. Hence, as a last ditch effort at retribution, I stripped your soul from your body and locked it in the Puzzle a split second before I was decapitated." I smirked gloatingly. "I reckon you never saw that coming, did you, you self-centered asshole?"

He was very quiet, studying me troublingly. "Bakura," he mutedly stated, "that was over three-thousand years ago."

I lost my restraint. "And do you just expect me to forget that?! Perhaps let bygones be bygones?!" I snarled like a rabid hyena. "No! You took everything from me and I demand avengement!" I glared at him bestially. "And I already told you: my name is Antumetep!"

He only had time to blink.

"Revenge shall finally be mine! Sekhmet, guide me!" In a flash, I flew to him in mindless rage, my dagger firmly in my grasp. I tackled him and frenziedly brought the blade down repetitively into his torso…

…but my attack wasn't affecting him. Hell, he wasn't even bleeding. "What's wrong with you?!" I shrieked through my clenched teeth. "Why won't you die?!"

_/Don't waste your time on the spirit… kill the boy. If the mortal shell is dead, then the spirit is, too,/_ came Yami's voice through the mind-link.

_/But I can't kill Yugi – he's immortal./_

_/The pharaoh renounced his power of keeping the child alive. Do it now!/_

Without a speck of hesitation, I rounded on Yugi, my maniacal instincts in charge.

I sliced the blade through the air.

There was a spray of crimson.

Téa screamed.

For an elongated second, Yugi remained standing as though my aim had missed. My speculations were reversed, however, when blood spilt over his lips and he fell back, glassy-eyed.

I breathed heavily of my heady conquest, hardly taking note that Joey, Tristan and Téa shoved past me to Yugi.

I had won. After three dragging millennia, I'd completed my goal of reprisal. Triumphant, I turned my attention on my fallen prey.

My dying prey…

… my dying friend.

Seeing Yugi's helpless face ushered the swift return of my senses. "What have I done?" I whispered, the dagger falling from my limp hand. The split-second act I'd been aching to commit had transpired… and now I couldn't take the Phyrric victory back. Petrified, I rushed to him. "Yugi! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" I beseeched frantically as I cradled his head, trying to ignore the blood rapidly drenching his jacket.

I was roughly jerked to my feet. "What the hell is wrong with ya, ya son of a bitch?!" Joey screamed in my face as he held a fistful of my shirt.

I stuttered incoherently, my vision bleary with tears. Even I didn't have an answer.

He released me, beckoned by Tristan and Téa's desperate cries as Yugi started gasping.

"C'mon, man – stay with us!" Tristan pleaded as he jostled his shoulders.

I raked my fingers down my scalp in spinning madness. "I didn't… I didn't mean to…."

Amidst the havoc, nobody took notice of the spirit of the Millennium Puzzle as his limbs and torso faded away like smoke. He caught my eye, his expression that of confusion… and hurt.

"Pharaoh," I breathed, my hand reaching for his misty face. Yet I never made contact, for he vanished completely before my fingers could touch him.

An empty frigidness enveloped me as I grasped the meaning of the glaring symbolism. Fearfully, as I registered that the gasping had quieted, I cast my eyes towards my injured companion.

I flashed on what I had said about my sister's eyes. Yugi's were open, but nothing lay behind them.

They were dead, violet orbs; the pupils dilated voids.

Terror wrung the air from my lungs. I couldn't breathe. Dreamlike, my legs gave way and I sunk to my knees. "No," I sobbed, the sight of his prostrate form searing my soul. I touched his warm, inert hand, praying that he'd rouse.

Joey savagely placed himself between Yugi and me. "Get outta here, ya freak," he stated flatly, his eyes concealed by his bangs.

"Joey, please liste-"

He delivered a response in the form of his fist pummeling my mouth. "The only reason I'm not gonna murder ya is you're my friend," he panted as I tried to stop my lip from bleeding. "But if I _ever_ see ya again, you're dead!" He then turned back to Yugi. "Don't ya quit on us now, Yug! We've all been through too much together!" he pleaded, wiping away his tears with the back of his hand. "Ya always said friends never give up on each other!"

I stood clumsily, unable to feel the ground underneath me. "I'm sorry," I whimpered contritely, backing away, my brain in shambles. Yet I was aware that I could never receive atonement for what I had done.

Téa couldn't even dial an ambulance. She bawled as she embraced Yugi's frail body, screaming for him to awaken. Tristan leaned heavily on her back, his face twisted in tear-stained agony.

"Yug… wake up," Joey moaned, burying his face in the motionless chest.

My mind shattered into a million shards and I pelted away, my screams rending the sky.

I hadn't even seen Yami snatch my dagger, as well as the Millennium Puzzle from Yugi's neck, unnoticed by the ruined trio.

---

I don't remember for how long I drifted the streets; all I know is that it was night when I finally stumbled through the front door of the house.

My sanity was no more. The image of Yugi collapsing, a gaping laceration carved from his shoulder to abdomen, flashed torturously before me. I doubled over, practically retching when I recalled the warped pleasure I'd experienced when I felt the dagger slice through his body like warm butter.

I wiped the acidulated saliva from my mouth and melted in a heap against the wall. The prospect of me being capable of homicide whilst under the spirit's control was nothing new to me. Two years preceding I had revived from one of the many instances when he'd possessed me, terror-stricken to find fresh blood coating my hands, and Maximillion J. Pegasus' Millennium Eye in my pocket. Yami shared with me that he'd utilized my body to kill the president of Industrial Illusions for the Item; the only people who had knowledge of my crime were myself, Yami and the deceased Pegasus.

However, I had been fully alert and in command of my actions for the attack that took Yugi's life.

I spluttered manic sobs, but it couldn't bring my frozen insides consolation. An inescapable chasm of desolation had swallowed me like a baneful beast, and I knew I could never emerge from it's gullet.

If I had been mortal, I would have died from heartbreak.

My undulating wailing was discomfited by the sound of someone casually clapping. "From the bottom of my heart and on behalf of my people I commend you for your deed, my aibou."

I snapped my head up and discovered Yami applauding me from the opposite side of the room. Sweltering fury burned in me and I deliberately rose to my feet. "What did you do to me?" I accosted, hate strangling my voice.

"Settle down – there's no need to throw a wobbly –"

"What… did you do to me?"

"Regarding?"

My breaths were ragged. "Don't play ignorant, Thief! You were infiltrating my emotions somehow in the park – that's why I was acting that way!"

I waited for him to laugh and confess his culpability, but he never did. "I did nothing of the sort," he disavowed.

"Bullshit!" I roared. "Sure, okay – I don't doubt those were actual remembrances that have been dormant in my soul for millennia, but I… I had nothing but hatred surging in me, like something had possessed my mind." My features warped as the unforgiving recollection slipped into my brain's forefront. "And then… I… I murdered him…. I would never have done that on my own will!" I screamed, ravaging my vocal cords.

His lips bloomed into an oily smile. "Is that so, my incarnation?"

"Yes, it's so!" I screeched. "You're accountable for what I did!"

He studied me in the dense silence. "How pathetic you are," he stated coldly after a while. "You're scrambling to employ any excuse so you won't have to accept liability … or the reality." He swaggered towards me. "You are petrified that the emotions you experienced this afternoon were entirely your own… genuine, pure, true, with no intervention from me." He halted before me. "Am I not correct?"

I stood my ground, earnestly feuding with my misgivings.

"You're also scared because everything you had seen in the peripheral room in the soul hallway was verified by your revived memories."

My breath caught. "I thought you said you didn't believe me about that…."

"Initially, I didn't." Suddenly, our surroundings melted away – in an instant, we were standing in the soul corridor between our two chambers.

No sooner had I gathered my bearings I glowered at him. "Why have you brought us here?" I ordered, my voice resonating off the stony walls.

"I'm going to show you something that might pique your interest," and he proceeded to head towards the peripheral door.

Something in his reply triggered unease in me. Since uncovering it in early July, I had evaded the room following my frightening episode in there. "Where are we going?" I asked as I lagged after him, already insightful of the answer.

Yet he said nothing as he silently trod towards his destination.

I noticed that the area wasn't as inky as it had been when I'd explored it. A wash of bluish phosphorous illuminated the space, similar to the section with the two doors. As we neared the end of the hall the glow increased, and before us laid the very visible entryway of the abstruse chamber. No longer blending with the walls, it now resembled a large slab of sandstone, its face engraved with scores of hieroglyphs cascading in slender rows.

I halted before the vestibule, perplexed by what I saw. "Why is it visible? It was concealed when I came before."

"You'll see," was his vague answer.

I stood transfixed, awaiting something remarkable to happen, but nothing did.

After a few more seconds, Yami scowled. "Are you waiting for a notarized invitation? Open the damned door!"

My heart quickened with a mixture of hesitation sweetened with eager anticipation of what potentially waited on the opposite side. Swallowing, I firmly planted my hands on the surface and leaned my weight into it.

If I had not witnessed myself coming to this room, I would have never believed this to be the same dismal chamber I had happen upon two months before. The space was now handsomely appointed in the style of an ancient Egyptian temple. Mounted wall torches cast ochre light throughout the place, streaking up massive columns that vanished in the blackness overhead where the glow couldn't penetrate.

My attention, however, was on the objects that graced the floor.

In the accommodating atmosphere, I at last observed the images that had bemused me during my preliminary visit. The lotus upon the dais, once transparent, was now a flawless ivory-white… identical to the bloom my Egyptian mother had handed me.

The explanation of the stench, as well as to why the ground had been tacky was, bluntly put, gruesome. About half a dozen corpses that I recognized as the palace guards from my lost flashbacks littered the ground, a shallow pool of blood under them. I shuddered, knowing I was to blame for their deaths. Yami and mine's precursory shell lay juxtapose to the guards, twisted in rigor mortis and, of course, headless; that was nestled against the back wall, the cloudy eyes inexhaustibly peering at the top of the entry. The feet were mangled and bloody with the bone poking out amongst the flesh clinging in tendrils. I now comprehended the relevance of the decapitated cadaver, but it unsettled me nevertheless.

"What you see," Yami began, "is the result of recalling your forgotten name. That night in the flat following my discovery of our name on that stele, the entryway of this room became perceptible to me. I thought back on your claims of this chamber's existence and, I must admit, I was surprised to see that you'd spoken true. Once inside I saw that the area was substantially lighter than your description of it, and I was able to witness the items you'd told about."

"But… but I still don't understand - why isn't this place obscured like it was two months ago?"

His eyes roamed the yawning heights above us. "That's simple: our soul found itself."

I shook my head. "I don't follow."

"Think on it – a name gives one an identity… a place in life. If a soul can't remember something as elementary as that, how can it have cognizance of its past?" He eyed me solemnly. "This chamber isn't in the soul corridor by chance – it's a storeroom of ancient memories that I, you, experienced. You uncovered it through sheer tenacity, but you couldn't fathom its purpose or the sketchy clues that lay within; not even the uttering of our original name made sense to you."

I stood there, ruminating his words as the said disembodied voice's precise proclamation of my ancient name flowed in and out of my ears like water. Yami had supplied me with the additional threads essential to complete the complex tapestry of circumstances that had been woven over the course of two months, yet there were still bare spots. "Why were you able to remember some instances of your life before you found the name?"

He scoffed. "If you can honestly call it that; being able to only recall disjointed bits of your existence hardly qualifies as remembering." Scratching his head, he sat on the exquisitely decorated coffin of Pharaoh Akhenamkhanen's that I had seen in my recollections that afternoon. "If the thought was relevant enough it remained with me over these three-thousand years. That's my hypothesis. At the time of my death, the majority of my memories fled from me as my life had. You couldn't evoke any of them because you had taken on an entirely new persona when you were born to Hiro and Cynthia."

I scanned the area impassively, breathing in the smoky air. "That's why the room was sealed," I mumbled.

"Pardon?"

"This room," I answered as I spun back to face him. "These are my obsolete memories – they're of no importance to me now, in this life, so my mind shut them away, prohibiting my access to them. It's called…" I snapped my fingers to evoke the term I had read in the magazine in Dr. Hutchinson's waiting room, "…'anamnesis.'"

He pursed his lips and shrugged. "That's adequate speculation."

"It's not speculation," I replied with fortitude, "it's the truth... I know it."

For a few seconds he appeared deep in thought. "Your assumption is reasonable," he nodded. "Things never 'go away'. When water evaporates, it rises into the atmosphere and returns as rain. Elements and objects may convert their shape and density, but the original entity is still there. This also applies to memories; though a soul may transcend millennia, the remembrances are always present, simply switching from conscious to subconscious."

Listening to him ignited a question I yearned to discover. "When you read the stele, did you regain your memories, too?"

He nodded. "I did. I abandoned you initially to get my head around the incomprehension of locating my identity; as soon as I re-entered the soul hallway, I found the entrance to this chamber and began to remember everything from when I lived."

I stared blankly at Akhenamkhanen's coffin, solving yet another paradox that had haunted me. I'd never figured out why Dad had been wrapped in the mummy bandages in that dream, but now that I knew the affairs relating to my pilfering of the pharaoh's body, it was clear: my underconsciousness had known that somebody's father had been mummified, so my brain construed it as Dad. I involuntarily rubbed the ache on the right side of my face, aware now that it was due to the memory of acquiring the scar millennia beforehand.

Yami rose and beckoned me. "But there's more. Follow me," and he turned down a hall that branched off from the room.

I didn't want to pursue him, for I didn't want to see any other factors that linked us. Regardless, I obliged and straggled after him like a shadow.

In spite of my mood being that of total panic from butchering Yugi only hours before, I could not deny that I was in awe as Yami and I made our way down the expansive corridor that had lain undetected in my mind for years. The chalky walls were inscribed with the exact figures that were painted on Yami's soul room's surfaces, but this artwork was rich and vibrant, as though it was no more than a week old. Many of the paintings depicted me during my first life, and accompanying those were a myriad of hieroglyphs that, to my astonishment, I could decipher with no effort. Panel upon panel my existence was told in the text, similar to how many ancient Egyptians' biographies were explicated in their tombs as epitaphs. The details were degrading; they primarily spoke of my foul acts as a thief who had terrorized Egypt for eight years. I was queasy, as most everything I had shared with Atemu was scratched in the sandstone that stretched the length of this silent passage. I decided it be best if I forego reading the remainder of the glyphs, as my grief once again started gnawing away at my viscera. As I trudged onward, however, I couldn't help but glance a truly chilling description carved beneath an image of me assailing a figure who unmistakably represented the pharaoh:

_A beast has devoured Kemi; his hair is purer than alabaster, and his eyes, as black as the soil along the banks of the mighty Nile, are merciless and cruel. He rides the wind and begets death. Like the wind, he is stealthy, cannot be seen, and secures utmost destruction, just as bombarding gusts erode grand architecture. He murders not only the living but also the dead by destroying the departed's body in pursual of treasures. Nothing dissuades the beast – not painstakingly designed precautions against tomb robbers nor the purifying rays of the sun god, Ra. O, Isis, deliver us from this beast named Antumetep: killer of men, violator of women, and nightmare of children._

I reread the inglorious words no less than three times. How apropos it was, I thought, that what was carved upon the wall detailed even my present life befittingly:

I had been a thing of nightmares to peers when I was younger because of my appearance;

I had been a violator of women when I stained Angela;

And I had been a killer of men by murdering the first person who displayed any remote kindness to me when I came to Japan initially.

The irony was so pitiable I could only laugh.

Yami, far ahead in the hallway, turned and regarded me when he heard my guffaws. "Stop your lollygagging and hurry up!"

Like the saft puppet I was, I complied, my demented chortles quieting into soft whimpers.

He cast his eyes sideways at me. "Ah, I see you've read that lovely descriptive of us."

Curse that fucking mind-link.

"Just so you know, that's the complete version of what was engraved on the stele that told me of our name," he confided as we continued forward in tandem.

I didn't care. I just kept my eyes down as I walked, catatonically observing the walkway's sandstone blocks as they glided past my vision. After a few more minutes, Yami halted, and I mimicked. My gaze still on the floor, I blinked, stumped when I noted that the path had given way to sand. Baffled, I looked up, unable to suppress my gasp that followed; what lay before my eyes was so vast that not only were my senses overloaded, but my comprehension, as well.

An immense desert distended before me. Swelling from the sand like massive sentinels were three pyramids that resembled the monuments of Giza. They were silhouetted against the sky that burned with the coppery glow of sunrise, silent, unyielding of their timeless secrets. Further on, a river sliced its way through the landscape, and I concluded it was the Nile. Mist curled above the mirror-like surface, and the songs of countless birds drifted from the papyrus reeds gracing the banks as coral-shaded ibises waded through the water.

"Y-Yami," I stammered, having to support myself on a column at the hall's portico entrance. "What is all this?"

"This," he responded abreast of me, "is the entire collection of our past memories."

I craned my neck back, indicating the direction of the chamber. "But I thought that room held them…."

"Oh, it does, but only recollections that are most imperative to us," he explained. "They're protected in that temple because of their importance, just like the contents of a keepsake box." He hopped off the path into the sand, sweeping out his arm. "This area contains every remembrance of our previous life, and each one is just itching to be re-discovered."

Tears collected in my lashes as the sun crested over the outline of the pyramids, radiating my face with a fiery glow. I felt like I was falling uncontrollably as I saw the division between our personalities, and ourselves, blur. I cringed whenever he referred to us as an individual, but I knew it was true. "I… I don't want these memories," I breathed. Pressing my palms against my face, I cried, "I'm Ryou Bakura, not Antumetep!"

He smiled as he kept his focus ahead. "It's too late, my incarnation – a precedent has been etched." He caught sight of a butterfly flittering before him, and he held out his hand. It perched on his finger, its delicate wings absorbing the warm sunlight. "Like you can't expect this butterfly to revert to a caterpillar, even if it's encased in its cocoon again, your past has emerged from its long slumber… and you can bottle it up no longer." He turned his attention to me. "You have felt the irrevocable sun on your wings. There is no going back." He gave his hand a light nudge and the butterfly departed.

I stood there, quivering. Yet it wasn't due to sorrow; anger began simmering in me.

In a blink, the surroundings returned to that of the living room. "There now - I told you you'd be interested in that."

My vision was unfocused on the floor. "Just stop talking," I mumbled.

He paid me no heed. "Before happening upon my name, I knew very scant pieces of my past, but afterwards the answers spread before me like an immeasurable ocean." He nodded to me. "That's why as soon as I notified you of your true name, your past flooded back to you… along with your animosity towards the pharaoh."

I had heard enough. "Shut up!" I bellowed. "I'm not going to listen to your filthy lies!"

He laughed softly. "From what I'm reading through the mind-link you know I'm speaking the truth, Antumetep."

I snapped. With blinding rage, I wrapped my fingers around the closest thing within my reach, which happened to be a lamp, and howled as I flew towards him. If we truly were the same person, murder would be easy for me to commit again….

Yet the thief's reflexes were well tuned and he effortlessly hedged my assault. Undeterred, I wasted no time at redoubling my attempts to crush the lamp against his skull, but during that precious wasted second he grabbed my hair and flung me to the wall, causing me to lose hold of my makeshift weapon.

"You dare attack me, you pig-ignorant scum?" he abrasively intoned as he pinned my broken body against the surface with his weight. Flicking out his dagger he hissed, "Though I can't take your life, I'll make you grovel for death when I peel the flesh from your fingertips!" and he seized my hand.

My adrenalin kicking in, I threw him off my back and succeeded clipping his jaw with a half-arsed aimed punch. A clean satisfaction raced through me as I felt my knuckles grind against his bone. No longer did I care about the dire aftermath of incensing him – my mind was far too gone. Again, I managed to clout him - this time in the ribs - and he dropped to his knees and keeled over.

"Is that all you can take, Yami? Get up!" I ordered wildly, feeling invincible for the first time in my life.

However, my over-confidence robbed me of my logic. I should have known better that the tomb robber's sufferance for physical pain was unduly high, and a mere blow to his torso would never knock him into submission.

It was only when I saw the lamp in his grasp that I understood my rashness. His dibility had been a subterfuge.

With brutal force, he smashed it into the left side of my head, shattering the bulb and base, plunging the room into darkness. Simultaneously, a sickening _crack_ sounded in my ears as white and blue stars blinded me, followed by an explosion of pain constricting my skull.

I collapsed to the cold, wooden floor, the world silent around me.

I laid crumpled on my right side, able to smell the blood as it poured from my fractured temple and leaked down my face. I couldn't move, yet it wasn't because of lack of physical strength…

… I had lost my will.

To fight.

To live.

To continue.

"Why Yami?" I breathed listlessly, my eyes sliding in and out of focus. "Why do you do this to me?"

He discarded the spent weapon and stood motionless in the shadows, his face obscured by the gloom. "Because," he answered quietly, his voice surprisingly gentle, "you are me… and I am you. And owing to this, you must also know the heartache that has plagued me for three-thousand years." He then emerged from the dimness and knelt beside me, his face bathed in frosted moonlight. A goose bump-inducing comprehension coursed through me as I gazed up at him. He was right – he _was_ I, for the visage that peered into my eyes didn't hold the typical aggressive expression, but rather, appeared to be mine: placid and touched with traces of sadness.

"B-but…" I said, my voice cracking in my throat as my features warped aggrievedly, "… if we are the same, why can't you try to be like me? I know I'm not the happiest person on Earth but at least it's better than having to endure the torment you feel."

Yami shook his head imperceptibly, a vacant air glazing his eyes. "I've tried, Hikari," he chuckled slightly. "Ra knows I have. However, unlike you, I am weak emotionally. My soul is as fragile as your body, and I'm scarred deeper than you could ever fathom."

For a wordless moment, I surveyed him, when I finally voiced, "I know. You needn't tell me that. It's always been overt that your harsh actions and sharp words have masked your true emotions."

"And, pray tell, what are those?"

"Fear… and confusion."

A medley of emotions swept his face. "My, but aren't _you_ the clever one," he conceded with a smirk. "Correct – I _am_ terrified. You can't blame me, though – I had always imagined that I'd only live into my seventies…." He stopped, amusedly shaking his head. "No, I'm lying. I was mindful that because of my erratic lifestyle I'd probably never live to see my thirtieth birthday. And yet…" his voice betrayed the faintest crack, "… here I sit, continuing to exist at three-thousand, with no home and no family."

I unthinkingly said the first observation that materialized in my brain. "But you haven't lived for three-thousand years – you're dead."

He slapped my face open-handed, the noise resounding through the room. "And do you think I don't know that, you cheeky prick?" he snapped testily. "Do you believe that I don't realize I am but an un-dead corpse, destined to remain trapped in the Ring forever?" His eyes kindled with abhorrence, yet they weren't focused on me. "What is this you've done to me, Pharaoh?! Was I mistaken in trusting that I had gotten the last laugh when I sealed you in your own Puzzle, and even now your retaliation ensues?" he choked in wheezing breaths. "Although my living half killed your re-incarnation, are you continuing to mock me?!" His eyes shot above him and he sobbed, "Why will you not allow me to die?! Why will Horus not come to take my soul?!" The moonlight reflected off the tears that deluged his face. "I know now that it was uncalled senselessness for me to steal your father's mummy, Atemu, but… I… I just wanted an answer!" His shuddering wails distorted his voice. "My actions were forceful, but what was I to do? Forceful was the only way I understood to accomplish things since I had been orphaned." He clenched his teeth and hissed, "Tell me! What have you done to me?!"

"It's… it's what you've done to me," I replied.

He startled and looked as though he'd forgotten I'd been in the room, and for a few moments he said nothing. However, his humane side evaporated when he cooed, "Indeed, it is." Automatically, he reached his hand towards my face. Expecting a blow, I didn't even have the strength to flinch, but instead groaned dully in agony as I felt his fingers brush against my bleeding temple. Bringing his hand within centimeters of his eyes, he watched with almost child-like fascination as the sticky crimson ran freely past his wrist and down his arm in a gruesome stream. "My chosen profession of tomb robbing those millennia ago revealed how fragile I was. After all, it takes a fairly deranged, broken-spirited bastard to defile the supposed sanctuaries of the dead." He let his bloodied arm fall limply to his lap, his eyes lifeless. "That's me," he whispered, forcing a pained smile as he suppressed his tears unsuccessfully, "the great thief king, Antumetep: deranged, broken-spirited and selfish." He dropped his head, the collected tears splashing soundlessly onto the floor.

I watched as he sat there, and it dawned on me that in the three years I'd known him I had never seen him weep, and for the briefest moment pity tore at my heart. My empathy had no time to flourish, though, as he swiveled his head up, his teeth gnashed together in a demented grin. "It's that exact selfishness that empowers me to keep your body and mind imprisoned to life, with no repentance on my part," he intoned lowly, the tears continuing their decent.

Normally, that bright madness in his gaze would cause me to cower, begging him to bestow leniency upon me for what he next intended to do. Now, however, it was transparent that it was a specious front to conceal his misery, and I had to play it to my advantage before he tried anything desperate. "But what is the purpose of hampering me like this, Yami? What is the benefit of making me suffer along with you? It'll only be a reminder that you're forever condemned."

His smile slackened into a bored scowl. "I already told you, idiot: why should you, as my living self, be allowed to eventually die and abandon me again? It's only fair that you, too, endure the punishment. Even if I granted you mortality, because of the abysmal deeds you'd committed in your previous life, ill fate would await you in death. You wouldn't pass the test of having your heart weighed, and Ammut would devour your soul. Therefore, you must compare what's worst: spending the remainder of eternity walking the earth with your other half, or the alternative of rotting in Ammut's bowels?"

I heard his pragmatic explanation, which held water, and yet I still could not grasp it. I studied the psychopath before me, emptiness wringing my organs like a sponge. "How can I possibly be your re-embodiment?" I whispered, my strength slipping away.

"Don't be starting with that whining crap again," he groaned, wiping away the ashen blood from his cracked skull. "Have you looked in a mirror during these three years? You're the damned spitting image of me right down to the last hair on your forsaken head! How can you be so stubbornly vigilant in denying the obvious?"

I squeezed my eyelids sickeningly as I professed it. "I don't. I had always known in my heart you were my previous self, and those memories today verified it. But…" I surveyed him blearily, "… what I mean is, how can _I_ be your re-incarnation? Our personalities are on such extremes of the spectrum. It's comical how incongruous we are."

He thoughtfully pursed his lips. "At initial glance, that appears true. Clearly, when I was locked in the pendant, you - the untarnished portion of my soul - remained free to be reborn later." His brow furrowed slightly. "My resent towards you can be explained by that. You epitomize the part of me that thrived before my village's termination… the part that I had to squelch in order to survive in such a brutal world at so young an age." He turned his head to face me. "Whenever I see you, I see myself as I would have been had no extermination occurred. However, there _was_ an extermination, and for me to behold your virtuous, resilient personality is cruel. It's… it's as though you're mocking me." He absentmindedly rubbed his blood-soaked fingers against his thumb. "I'm insanely envious of you, boy. When I see what I've become I'm truly nauseated, and I let loose my anger on you. Every time I do this, you become a little more depraved. Eventually, you'll be just like me, and I won't be reminded of what I used to be like preceding the slaughter, or muse upon what I would have turned out like had it never happened. As we're one, we must act as such. I certainly cannot revert to who I was previous the village's extermination, so I figure it's easiest if I convert you to my current personality." His face neared mine menacingly. "I shall once again squelch you."

My eyes were opened so widely I thought they'd fall from the sockets. "No. I can't end up like you…."

"That road has been preordained, though," he replied. "Remember, I did say at _initial_ glance you seem my opposite. I held enough hatred in my heart equivalent to a hundred men when I died. True, most of it stayed in me, but you must ask yourself where the leftovers of that repugnance went – it was far too concentrated to purely vanish without a trace." He raised his lips in a ghastly distortion of a smile. "Though I consider you my light, your portion of our soul also houses an abundance of deep-seated malevolence. It's… in… you."

I hesitated numbly. "You're lying."

"Your display this afternoon was very, very fervid, in case you haven't deduced that. Your mannerisms were dead-on similar to mine, yet you were neither possessed nor influenced by me. That is why I had intentionally distanced myself from you and barely said anything during the affray – I didn't want you thinking that I was overriding your behavior somehow."

I thought on his words that forced me to face myself. "I… I know," I cried timidly, abashed that, somehow, my answer would be heard from persons outside the house. "And I was scared because…."

"It was fluent on your part to express and really feel that derision towards Atemu?" he finished.

I clenched my teeth in anticipation of what I prepared to utter. "Yeah. It was as if I had pined to say all of that to him ever since I'd met him, like it's been weighing me down all of these years." I paused as a dizzying wave of lassitude washed over me, causing my head to feel as though it was sinking into the floor. As soon as the sensation passed, I carried on. "But my outburst today was a freak occurrence. It… doesn't mean I'm a monster at heart…."

Yami reached into his pocket and held something rectangular in front of my face. "Ryou," he said, referring to me by my current name for the first time since being at the park, "I'm going to show you something that will clear this up. Now, what do you see?"

My vision blurred, but I was able to distinguish the piercing, white eyes of Dark Necrofear. "My… my card deck."

"Exactly." He began lightishly cutting the deck, before he stated, "I've always had a philosophy regarding the game of Duel Monsters. I believe one can learn about a person's soul simply by the variety of cards in his or her deck." He ceased the shuffling and displayed the stack at my eye-level. "Now, I want you to take a proper look at your deck and te- no, no boy, stay awake," he said, lifting my cheek as I nearly fainted. "This is imperative… all right - tell me what pattern you notice."

I groggily focused on the various cards:

Fearful Earthbound;

Sangan;

Masked Beast Des Guardius;

Headless Knight;

Dark Desecrator;

Earl of Demise;

Destiny Board;

Goblin Zombie;

Gurnia;

Dark Spirit of the Silent….

As he presented each image, I understood where it was leading.

"Have you solved the common factor, Hikari?"

Burning tears pooled in my eyes. "They're… they're all nightmarish creatures."

"Correct." He laid the deck on the floor and propped his elbow, resting his chin on his bloodied hand. "With the abundance of baleful monsters and dark spells in your deck, what do you think that says about gentle, Ryou Bakura's soul?"

In a futile effort at redeeming myself, I bleated, "You wanted Des Guardius!"

"_You_ wanted Des Guardius," he criticized, pointing a condemnatory finger at me.

"But… but on my birthday you were happy that I was able to get the monster, and you had said so yourself that you'd wanted it for some time."

"True, I needed the card as a strong addition to our deck, but I never intimidated you to get it," he observed smoothly. "Not once did I endanger your safety, demanding that you locate the card for me. You asked Yugi for one on your own accord."

I whimpered cravenly, not wanting to look into myself.

"I admit, I could have chosen a number of monsters that are just as, if not more, powerful than Des Guardius, yet I did not, for that card appealed to my liking. I'm not in denial that it's because I'm malignant – the question is, are _you_ willing to acknowledge that about yourself, Aibou?"

I had never given it a second thought, but his observation of my deck's contents triggered me to evaluate its meaning. My friends all had a deck of Duel Monsters cards: Téa's cards consisted mainly of benevolent, fairy-type creatures; Tristan, though not much of a gamer, had intrepid beasts as his deck's primary monster variety; Joey had valiant warriors; noble, magical beings had made up Yugi's deck. The majority of mine, though, were wrackful fiends, and there was no rhyme or reason as to why I had decided to construct a deck like that…

…unless what the spirit said was veritable.

My face screwed in the agony that was truth. No… those monsters didn't represent my soul… did they? Of course they did – I'd just killed my best friend. "Well, if I truly am evil it's because you've sullied me over the years, Yami."

He tilted his head in a pout. "Aww… you've hurt my feelings. However, before you begin fabricating me into your customized scapegoat I want you to do me a little favor."

I blinked my eyes into focus. "What?"

"Think back to when I first threw you into your soul room those three years ago. You were upstairs, writing that letter to your dead mother and sister. Can you recall that?"

I nodded. "Of course. That's the night that my life as I knew it ended."

He smirked frostily at me. "Anyway, can you remember any peculiar detail that you noticed about the soul room?"

He was insinuating something, but what? "Nothing struck me as odd that I rememb-"

_The shadowy mold._

"Wait, there was a black mold growing in the room's corners," I corrected myself. "Over the years it's infested the area in there, and now it's engulfing the ceiling." I sensed a great foreshadowing. "Why do you want to know?"

He fixed his gaze on me. "That's not mold spreading throughout your soul room – it's a physical manifestation of your soul's wickedness."

I was stock-still as the gears in my mind rotated with this news. It did make sense, as the substance thrived to such a great extent in his room. Nonetheless, I continued to pull hens' teeth to preserve the integrity of my character. "No, I'm not going to believe that."

"You must," he nodded slowly. "Even before you had been exposed much to me, that iniquity resided in your core. It may have been scant, but it was present, nevertheless." He leaned closer towards my face. "My presence has reminded your part of our soul of the entrenched malice it holds within."

My sight began failing as I incessantly bled. "So, you _are_ the reason I'm turning vile."

"Yes… and no," he began circumspectly. "Though it is true that I've been a catalyst in jogging your inherent evil, you have been excessively compliant with its resurrection. Not once have you tried stifling the darkness that's ever more consuming you."

I barely shook my head. "That's a lie."

"Oh, but it's not, my host. Through these three years, I've been aware that, very gradually, your personality has been altering. Bit by bit, you've become more obstinate… more hateful. You've even felt ill will towards your so-called friends, am I not mistaken?"

I shunned his gaze, despising him for sharing these facts that I tried to condone.

"Of course, you failed to illuminate that to them." He smeared away the blood leaking over his eyelids. "You'd ostensibly present a big, plastic smile to them and the world, concealing what actual emotions roiled in your heart."

"J-just shut the hell up!" I spluttered, infuriated that he could read me like an opened book.

"How many times," he purled, "did you desire to bring harm to any of those five people?" His shining eyes crinkled with spite. "How many times… did you crave to _kill_ them, host?"

Realistically, I should have screamed my outrage that he'd imply something so appalling. Yet I didn't - I couldn't - as a secret, a black, almost forgotten, sinister secret that I'd never confided with in anybody unobtrusively emerged from deep inside my subconscious like a whispering wind. "There was…" I stated mutedly, my eyes peering flatly at nothing.

"Yes?" he cajoled.

"There was that… one time when Yugi and I were doing homework together at the game shop. I…" I halted, unable to believe I was communing any of this. "I could have done it!" I said with a scant crack of madness touching my voice. "I easily could have done it. It's just that…" I scowled as the lucid memories seemed to replace my current surroundings. "As I listened to him blithering on about the friends he'd made since solving the Millennium Puzzle, something in me snapped, and I was truly considering..." I laughed shakily in spite of myself. "There would've been no witnesses – his grandfather wasn't there. Yugi, in his haste to get a soda, could have _accidentally_ tumbled down the stairs and broken his neck." Before I could quell my actions, I acted out the scenario I had mentally rehearsed when I had entertained the twisted ambition. "Yugi fell down the stairwell, Mr. Mutou! I was in his room when I heard the crash! He…." I trailed off as horror swelled against my ribcage. Then, as if in a farcical way of pardoning myself from the abominable forethought I'd just informed him of, I stammered, "B-but I didn't – that's all that matters!"

"It is irrelevant whether you did or didn't; what you carried out this afternoon negates any and every moral undertaking you've acted upon," he pressed eloquently. "You've basically rewritten your life, Ryou."

I didn't want to listen to this verity any further – I just wanted to close my eyes and never wake up.

"Actually, the callousness that's taken shape within you is rather refreshing, isn't it? Before you were a subservient dog, redundantly kicked in the teeth by life's adversities since you were a small child, and, like a well-trained beast, you learnt to live complacently with it. But then…" his eyes lit crazily, "… you started re-evaluating the cruelness fate had dealt you, armed with your reawakened wrath. No longer were you the frightened, vulnerable boy; you had gained power."

"Shut up!" I growled, hating that he spoke the truth.

He reached into his shirt. "But what is the power of hate, when you can have the power of ultimate supremacy?" and he displayed the Millennium Puzzle as a curdling smile crept over his lips.

An icy twinge raced down my spine and plunked into my stomach upon seeing the Piece. "That's Yugi's Puzzle!" I croaked.

"Correction – it _was_ his Puzzle," he objected, admiring his long sought-after prize.

"How-"

"It's really quite easy to nab something from a corpse – you should know that from experience. They have absolutely no willpower or gumption to stand up for themselves," he replied, removing the Item from his neck and placing it on my palm.

His words filled me with a creeping horror and my tears returned afresh when I sensed no presence in the cold artifact. Peering at the tightly conjoined pieces, I reflected upon something that had chiseled away at me since it transpired. And, as I had committed homicide, I knew I had nothing to lose whether or not I asked it. "Why didn't… why didn't Atemu bleed when…"

"When you stabbed him? When you murdered him like a barmy lunatic?" Yami asked with no remorse. "Remember when I shared with you that my heartbeat and body warmth are a direct result of your vitality? Well, after he freed Yugi from his curse, the link that bound them physically was broken, thus explaining why the boy was free from injury whilst you attacked Atemu. That is also why no blood emerged from his wounds – the only thing that gave him a connection to a theoretical life - in this case, Yugi's - had been severed."

"But why then was the pharaoh affected when…" I nerved myself before taking the plunge, "… when I attacked Yugi?"

He tittered in response. "You love to downplay words, don't you? 'Attacked'… that's so subtle – 'slashed' is more feasible."

"Just… just answer me," I entreated, certain I was going to vomit.

"That is because the ones who are able to wear the Items - the hosts - are what supply the spirits with vitality," he explained patiently. "They are bound by a lifeline. If the host is killed, the spirit of the Item will die, regardless if the physical connection was cut aforetime or not."

He had just delivered my sole hope in his explication. "So, the spirit _will_ die? Then why don't you just revoke my curse and permit me death? Then you'll be freed, Yami!"

He irreverently eyeballed me. "Don't be speculating just yet. I've considered that option before, but knowing Atemu he probably included a nice, beribboned stipulation exclusively for me. With my rotten luck, you'd die and I'd remain in this ghastly Ring," he sulked, glancing at the pendant filthily.

"But… but that's your cogitation… your assumption. You don't know if it's factual or not."

"I'm not taking any chances," he sniffed.

I fastened my eyes on him sharply. "_That's_ why you're not even giving me the option to die?" I whispered in a raspy voice. "Because of… because of your goddamned paranoia, you schizo nutcase?!" I screeched furiously.

"Easy there, Ryou. You don't want to end up like your father, do you?"

My fury shifted to murderous venom. I wanted to kill him. I would have been more receptive to the idea of living until the end of time if only I could end his life right there. But the fervency of my emotions impaired my body and depleted me of every last bit of energy and I could only lie there. "You're a monster," I said softly. "You're a ruthless monster, and nothing more."

His face was blank with coldness. "No… I'm a human; that is what governs my actions." At that juncture, his eyes shimmered with awareness. "Oh, you dropped this," he said, rummaging through his pocket and presenting my cast-aside dagger.

A whimpering drifted from me as I noted the blood caking the length of the blade, condensed in the carved furrows that spelled out my name.

His obsidian-dark eyes pierced my core. "Our time for revenge upon life is approaching swiftly, Yadonushi. With the Millennium Ring, Eye and Puzzle in our amassed Item collection we now hold more Millennium Pieces than anyone on Earth. With that strength at our disposal it's only a matter of time before the remaining four are in our grasp." He closed his lids as an intoxicated lust crossed his expression. "Tonight marks the inception of a new era – a renaissance, if you will. Our destined greatness will at last unfold!"

I upset the silence that followed. "Don't you include me in your quest for destruction, Yami. I will not be a part of it… and I won't let you do it. I don't give a flying fuck who or what I was in my previous life – I'm going to rise above that. I determine my own destiny!"

A flame born of mania flickered in his pupils. "But don't you see, host? This is your chance to retaliate against anyone who has ever brought hardship to your life; let the fools realize the grave error they made for ever intersecting your path! Woe be to them."

"Does that include you?" I monotonously intoned.

"Yes! Exactly! I've caused you unjust suffering, both physical and mental, and only recently I disclosed that I shall keep you alive alongside me until the end of time! I know you're angry at me, even homicidal, so take out your rage you hold for me on the world!"

I couldn't believe what he was proposing. "You're raving," I mumbled. "And I'm not going to take out retribution on anyone; I just did with Yugi and look what happened to him."

"But you mustn't feel burdened about that – it wasn't your fault."

I gawked at him, thunderstruck. "Of course it was, Yami! I killed him with that blasted dagger!"

"It was not you who murdered the Mutou boy… it was the pharaoh."

The damage he incurred from the head injury was unquestionably showing itself. "Are you mental?! You saw-"

"The pharaoh's choices three-thousand years ago condemned his incarnation," he unperturbedly interrupted. "If he hadn't ruined my life back when I was alive, my soul would never have been locked away in the Ring; I would have never been embittered towards him; you, in turn, wouldn't have held any enmity for him, which means you would have never laid a finger on Yugi. He alone paved the path of the child's death." He shrugged as blood unremittingly drained from the laceration and sopped his shoulder. "Atemu should have been more prudent with his decisions those eons back, for everything that has transpired, as well as what will come to pass, is directly because of him." He hesitated, his face etched with meditative contemplating. "I suppose," he whispered, "we in fact carried out the promise to our mother concerning revenge on the pharaoh, Living Me. I always took it that I had failed because I was executed and sentenced to reside in the Ring; yet on that account, I'll easily be able to obtain the other Items and open the passage to the world of the dead. Humanity will fall, and though he may witness it from the afterlife, he won't be able to do anything but wallow in his guilt in knowing that he had spawned it all."

I assimilated his words in the hush, my mood lightening somewhat when I understood that I, indeed, had fulfilled my promise. I also felt a smidgen of my compunction recede hearing his explanation that rationalized our grudge towards the former spirit of the Puzzle. My repugnance towards Yugi and Atemu had been intrinsic in me – I couldn't help my actions. Yeah, that was it….

Yami held out his hand to me in an amiable gesture. "Now, will you abet me in garnering the remaining four Items so that we may begin our reign as the earth's most powerful beings?"

I stared at his proffered hand, cursing myself that I found his offer alluring. Just then, a question that had eaten at me for three years muscled its way forefront on my tongue. "Tell me this: why do you want to unlock the door to the realm of the dead so desperately?"

He didn't answer me right away, but instead appeared to be looking into his soul for a reply. Finally, he laughed brashly. "You pleb! It's because I want to have an omnipotent legion of undead beings under my control! Why else would I desire access to the realm of death?"

I studied him methodically, trying to tap into his barricaded thoughts through the mind-link, when I slowly shook my head. "You're lying."

His expression dropped slightly when I said that. Without a word, he snatched the Puzzle from my hands and began distractedly fiddling with it.

He was evading my eyes. "Yami, why won't you look at me?"

His brow remained scrunched with tribulation, and at one moment I thought he was going to start weeping. However, he rapidly buckled down. Forcing a watery smile, he complied. "It matters not what my intentions are when I open the passage," he stated, placing the artifact on the floor. Extending his hand again, he beamed solicitously. "So, are you going to assist me, my brother… my other half… myself?"

Once more, I faced seductive temptation and found myself disregarding the scolding voice of my conscience. I gazed at Yami's hand, thinking how easy it would be for me to take it, when I stopped dead.

I noticed the blood dripping off his fingertips like scarlet pearls.

The blood had trailed down his arm from his broken skull that mirrored my injury.

_"Whatever injury you receive whilst we're in separate bodies, I receive, and vice versa."_

My vision roved upward, taking in his physical details. The scar across his throat… just like mine.

His face… identical to my own.

His hair… spot on similar.

My mind raced with the propulsion of anxiety in comparing. His memories, his soul... I shared.

_"…my brother… my other half… myself?"_

The only aspect that differentiated he and I was that I wasn't proud of the murders I had committed.

I couldn't lose that minute feature that segregated us. If I did, my identity would be lost altogether.

"…_everything that has transpired, as well as what will come to pass, is directly because of him."_

His honeyed words and pally actions couldn't conceal the fact that he intended us to slaughter.

_"Humanity will fall…"_.

I could not allow that to happen.

Taking a wavering breath, I peered at him. "I will _never_ help you accomplish your twisted goals, you perishing bastard," I gushed with greatest satisfaction.

I wasn't certain if he had heard me, for his expression remained stationary. Suddenly, he withdrew his hand. "We shall see about that," he leered.

It became very quiet. In the deep silence, I was able to detect the soft clinking of the Ring's dousing needles as I breathed shallowly. My alertness waned as each second slipped by, and I wished I would pass out, just so the throbbing of my broken cranium would vanish.

Yami opened his mouth to say something, but he balked. "Ryou," he eventually mumbled, "remember that afternoon in London when you had accused me of never having loved anyone in my life? Do you know why I was so enraged after you said that?"

"No," I inaudibly intoned, recalling that painful fray from a month before perfectly.

He turned his head downwards, perpetuating the silver locks to spill over his shoulders. "I had always cherished my mother and sister more than anything, even before I re-discovered my name – it was one of the few memories I held before that time. They were who I loved."

And it was then that the final piece of the puzzle slipped into place: the dream about the unidentified woman and girl I had experienced on the plane over to England; I had unremittingly thought, _I couldn't lose them a third time…_.

I had lost them once three-thousand years before.

I had lost them when I was fifteen.

Finally, I was going to lose them in the reverie.

It was my mother and sister.

I nearly choked on my breath when I made this omniscient revelation.

"That's why you were so distraught when Cynthia and Higeki were separated from you – our soul's already endured having our family taken from us once."

I blinked the mixture of tears and blood from my sore eyes. "But – but why did you rob me of them?! They were just as much as your family as well!"

He shook his head bleakly. "Alas, Aibou, they were not. Those two were substitutes for our authentic sister and mother, for their souls were not the ones deprived from me millennia ago. True, Cynthia gave birth to you, and Higeki was present as a sibling figure, but they weren't genuine to us."

"Why are you saying that?!" I cried.

"Because the spirits of our sister and mum have been imprisoned in this for thousands of years," and he reached forward and touched the Ring delicately. "The Millennium Items were forged from the blood and displaced souls of ninety-nine people. Their essence dwells in this Item, Ryou… the Item that was destined for both you… and I." He then cradled it in his quivering palms, smiling warmly at it, before he further addressed me. "Now do you understand why you feel so attached on this Ring and why you can't bear to be separated from it?"

"I… I thought it was because you're part of my soul and you reside in it."

He considered my answer. "That's partly the reason," he began. "However, your intuition can sense their quintessence therein, and that brings you serenity whenever you're near it. When you wear the Ring, you are whole."

I bit my lip as my racking sobs filled my ears. I wasn't going to debate his explanation because I knew it was legitimate. Curling around the Ring, I allowed my eons' worth of misery to drain from me and blubbered wretchedly. "They've been with me all along and I never even knew it," I hissed, gripping it with such ferocity I was in danger of snapping it.

"I believe in my heart that the guardianship from the Piece those centuries ago during my raid on the palace was from them," he whispered as his expression turned bittersweet.

I squeezed my eyes shut, the tears flooding down my stinging face. "Have you ever seen them when you're in the Item?"

He responded with a vacant shake of his head. "No. It's pitch black and silent in there. The only reason I wasn't reduced to pure insanity during those centuries was because I detected their souls infused in the gold of the Ring." He looked at me. "Have you ever wondered why sometimes I ensconce to my soul room, and yet other times I choose the Item? Whilst the room provides me physical comfort, the Ring gives me tranquility and peace of mind."

I numbly peered at the pool of glossy blood that had snaked down his body, taking in account everything he was sharing with me, and I then compounded that with his obsessive drive to procure the Millennium Items. "You want them back," I deduced plainly.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, a twinge of animosity sharpening his tone.

"Our mother and sister. You want to open the doorway and reunite with them, don't you?"

Shock flickered in his eyes, yet he said nothing. Instead, he heaved himself off the floor, traversed the space towards the couch and retrieved one of its throw pillows. He then returned with the cushion and took up his vigil next to me once again. "I told you, it's none of your business what my objectives are when I bridge the world of the living to the dead, you fucking pilchard!" he bit hatefully.

I resentfully averted my gaze, hiccupping back my tears.

"Oh, cheer up," he patronizingly wheedled. "We've a big life ahead of us with endless possibilities!"

I wept, beleaguered, as I watched my destiny lay itself before me: I was to be his consort during his rule of terror, day in and day out….

Forever deathless…

… forever unending…

… forever.

He clucked empathetically. "You look dreadfully exhausted, Ryou – you should get some rest," he said, stroking the top of my head. "After all, we're going to be busy this month allocating the four remaining Items." He displayed the pillow. "This should help you."

I understood his implication. "No! Yami, don't… please!" I implored, too weak to move.

"Don't be ridiculous," he purred soothingly. "Just go to sleep, and dream for both of us how things could have been." And with that, my world darkened as he smothered the pillow against my face, ending my life for the eighth time.

---

The beginning of civilization's end occurred during the subsequent month. Because of the Ring's ability to divine other Millennium Pieces, Yami and - I'm ashamed to fess - I, effortlessly tracked down the whereabouts of the owners. My reason for accompanying him was not of my desire – his body could only be sustained if he remained in the general vicinity of the Ring and, as I was the only one of us who could don it, he demanded that I go with him. Naturally, I objected at first, not at all phased by his empty threats of death, but when he started trouncing me, I succumbed to his orders, reneging on my vow not to assist him in his quest.

His first victims in the hunt for the artifacts were the Ishtars. When he mentioned the surname, I immediately recognized it as the family he'd said had competed at Battle City. We located them in a subterranean dwelling near the Valley of the Kings in Egypt. I at last saw Marik Ishtar, whom my possessed body had conspired with during the Battle City competition, but Yami rapidly slew him for the Rod, commenting something about "getting even", whatever that meant.

The murder made me hysteric. Seeing Marik's internal organs protruding from his split gut like bloated worms revived the ghastly images of Yugi, paralyzing me to my marrow. I wasn't even in the right mind to deter Yami from claiming his next prey: a sloe-haired young woman named Ishizu, Marik's sister and holder of the Millennium Tauk. The slaughter didn't cease there. The last person to know my other's frenzy was a tattoo-faced man Marik and Ishizu had referred to as "Odion", whom I assume was also a sibling. I begged my dark to spare him, as we had claimed the Items, but his bloodlust was already aroused, so he reaped yet another life.

With the Rod and Tauk newly added to our collection, only two Millennium Items remained. However, we would rectify that soon enough. Shadi, the mystical keeper of the Ankh and Scale, was no match against Yami and his arsenal of five Pieces, and after he felt the bite of the thief's dagger in his heart, the endeavor that Yami - or rather, we - had been striving to complete was at last done.

The most apt way to describe what happened five days later was pure, unrestrained Armageddon. With the seven Items, he broke the seals between the lands of life and death. Seas of spirits, most of them malevolent, tore through the human population like a virulent plague. Cities were reduced to ruins overnight. It was a cataclysmic force that couldn't be stopped, and it charged with mega-ton power.

It was too much too fast.

How I wish that had been the extent of the genocide.

Regardless that throngs of people fell, Yami wasn't satisfied watching the annihilation from afar. Taking his insatiable thirst for vengeance ten steps further, he began dragging me along, insistent that we join in the termination utilizing the Millennium Items. I was appalled that he'd propound something that heinous and I refused to take anyone's life. Nevertheless, he would begrudgingly adhere to my decision and perform the murders solo.

One day, however, that changed.

Yami had wounded a man, but did not bother finishing him. Instead, he ordered that I end the man's life with my dagger, which I hadn't used since that day with Yugi. I objected, but Yami convinced me to do it; not with threats, but by manipulating my pliable emotions. "Look at that human," he whispered from behind me. "He can obtain death and will one day leave this hellish impoverishment behind, Other Me. Doesn't that make you sick with envy?"

I tightened my fingers around the hilt as I viewed the stranger, not as a fellow human being pleading for his life, but rather, a mortal who mocked me, sniveling to be spared. And for what? To cower in the shadows in this decrepit dystopia that was now Earth? He didn't appreciate how fortunate he was to have the option to abandon it. Infuriated by his stupidity, I – I'm revolted to admit – killed the ingrate. For days after that instance I was traumatized, but progressively that subsided, and I was conclusively left with the awareness of how easy it was to take another's life.

I visited my world of memories on a regular basis. At first, I had procrastinated exploring the realm, as I desired no reminders that Yami and I were the same. My curiosity caused me to cave in, however, and I began delving into my past.

The place consisted of far more than a desert of dunes: thriving villages, underground caverns, tombs, placid stretches of beaches, Atemu's palace, and the farthest reaches of the Sahara - everyplace we had gone millennia back laid in my mind. And I was irrefutably met with a surprise during one of my frequents: the usekh collar Yami had swiped from my father's Teknusabet collection had, in truth, been something the spirit had nicked when he was alive. The previous owner had been a low-ranking nobleman who had foolishly decided to adorn himself that day with not only the collar, but a fine collection of gold and lapis rings. Upon spotting the fancies, Yami murdered the man without a second thought and purloined the trinkets for himself. The man had been on his way to propose to his girlfriend.

I was a ghost in that world, as I had been when Yami took me into his memory of Higeki and Mum's death. Unable to interact with the individuals notwithstanding, I observed my past life quite contently. Most of the recollections were brutal and inhumane; undeniably, my violent past life was hinted at in the dream sequence back on the jet when I'd prepared to strike at my quarry in the tomb. Deplorably, some of these acts served as inspirational fodder for Yami's and mine's attacks. Yes, I ultimately became his accomplice.

Our sieges became more frequent… and on larger, more elaborate scales. Yami likened our strikes to when he and the group of bandits terrorized and pillaged towns in ancient Egypt, so we began donning garbs that resembled our get-up from that time: the incarnadine robe, linen shendyt waist wrap, gold adornments and kohl-lined eyes… the articles I had worn during that dream I had in London where I had spoken to Dad. My dark even went so far as to slash his face to regain his scar from life and I, too, received the disfigurement.

I started emulating him over the years, and we actually contended with one another as to who could murder more people during an attack, as twisted as that sounds. We had cultivated an unhealthy dependency on each other; no, I must correct myself there – from as far back as to when he and I crossed paths initially our relationship was symbiotic: we needed each other in order to thrive – he was my missing piece, and I his. I gradually became acclimatized with the onslaughts and butchery despite their amplifying brutality. Nevertheless, it proved to be a vicious cycle: we were angry with mortals, so we murdered them. However, I'b be aghast at myself for performing such a barbaric act and, to numb the pain, Yami and I would execute others yet again; and as I watched the humans writhe with their death rattles I would harbor great antagonism towards them… and it would start anew. Yes, we were miserable, but we took out our pathological sorrow upon others. An ability that Yami had inherited when he opened the gateway was a body that could venture away from the Ring without the risk of dissipating. He and I would split separate ways to bring death to large areas simultaneously on his revivified horses that he had owned in life: Tjaw and Gyreh – Wind and Night. And, as we couldn't die, no one could defeat us. Needless to say, we gained quite an infamous reputation around the world, and the multitude began referring to us by a solitary phrase: the Gemini. Yami and I found this irony amusing, as my astrological sign is Gemini – the twins. I reckon the human's choice for that alias, however, had less to do with my birth date and more that my other and I were practically identical. Someone needed just mention, "The Gemini are here!" and all hell would break loose as they anticipated the white-haired demons to appear on the horizon upon the pitch stallions, preparing to indulge in their inexhaustible hunger for murder by spilling the blood of hundreds, sometimes thousands.

We were animals.

And I loathed every second of it.

I longed for death nearly each waking moment, and I pleaded with Yami infinite times to grant my soul the escape I so badly thirsted. Yet, he'd feed me the same explanation that either both of us die, or not at all. I'd argue with him for hours that that was an impossibility because his soul was permanently contained in the Ring. I tried to persuade him to give up keeping my life bound, as Atemu had done with Yugi, pointing out that both were allowed death when I terminated Yugi shortly thereafter. Yami would always decline this suggestion though, as he was dreadfully paranoid, trusting that if he let me die, he might somehow remain stranded and, without a host, lose his body. At one point, I broke the artifact into pieces to see if I could lift the curse, but I only ended up with a snapped pendant and a black eye from Yami thoroughly pasting me for defiling his mother and sister's resting place.

It turns out I had astutely determined why he salivated to unlock the doorway those years back: he desired to revive his loved ones. Despite tries to locate their spirits, he never succeeded… and we discovered why, to our chagrin. The villagers had not only been sacrificed to make the Items' forging possible, but their souls were exploited to form the very energy in the artifacts, forever emulsified in the gold… forever irrecoverable.

He was terribly despondent when he learned this. Seeing it as an opportunity, I suggested that as he denied me death, perhaps he could resurrect Mum and Higeki, whom I so fervently ached for, even if they only were my surrogate family. Of course, if circumstances didn't go his way, then no way was acceptable, and he refused to fulfill my request.

I was lost emotionally, and my hatred only deepened. To symbolize this, our transgressions became more monstrous – some were so stomach-turning that I'm not even going to remotely describe them. I had spiraled out of control, and I knew it. Repeatedly, I tried committing suicide: stabbing; drowning; falling; hanging; poisoning… all unavailing efforts.

The years crawled by like a sluggish reptile, and yet my physical features remained that of a fifteen-year old. Along with my dark, we had become gods – decadent, salacious and hedonistic, able to partake in all vices imaginable, with awesome power at our command… and yet, we had nothing.

On many a days, I would ponderingly sit, musing what it would have been like if Atemu's father hadn't chosen my childhood village for the sacrifice… if I had been the ninety-ninth soul reaped for the Millennium Items… if the bandits had never happened upon me… if I had never desecrated the dead pharaoh's tomb… if I had never confronted Pharaoh Atemu… if Dad had never given me the Ring… if I had never murdered Yugi….

Occasionally, I found my memories of my past as Ryou Bakura fading, and I had to coax myself not to forget those bygone years, for some of my most pleasurable moments were from that time. Furthermore, it was the only evidence I possessed that vindicated that although I had metamorphosed into a damn-near perfect clone of him, I hadn't always been like that.

Yet, that was so long ago, I wonder if my broken mind is playing tricks on me.

Sometimes, late at night, I hear the familiar, comforting voices, and am greeted by Joey, Tristan, Téa, Dad, Angela and, surprisingly, Higeki, Mum, Yugi and the pharaoh. I ask for their absolution for my irredeemable misconduct towards them in the past, but they say I've nothing to apologize for because none of it was my fault. We then rejoice and reminisce about old times. I share my feelings about the uncertainly of my life, and they reassure me that everything will be all right. Then… I wake up.

---

And so, as my tale began on my birthday, so does it end. What do I mean by 'my tale began'? Do I mean when I was born, or the beginning of this account of my life?

How I wish I knew that answer.

It truly is odd, but as I've been recording these events, I realize that my birthdays have played a pivotal role in this autobiography: I was exposed to the world on my birthday, my parents divorced around my tenth birthday, Dad gave me the Ring on my fifteenth birthday, and I chose the occurrences of my eighteenth birthday as the introduction of this hellacious memoir, namely because of my seemingly inconsequential act that fanned the flames of all this: I had seen the bandage on Joey's face and asked him what had happened. So I sit here as another anniversary of my birth befalls me. Alas, no cake could ever support the number of candles that represent the years of my life: five-thousand and three.

I now know why Antumetep – or Yami, as I still address him – acts the way he does. No longer do I wonder, _Why is he so damn venomous? Why does he mutilate his own body, a proven suicidal gesture?_ Existing for millennia has savaged and raped my brain, leaving a forgotten shadow of its innocent self. I can't fathom what dark, unstable thoughts swirl in Yami's mind, as he's all but twice my age.

He's still obsessed with his past turmoil, however, unwilling to look ahead and still horribly invidious of me. His practice of keeping me bound to life is inordinately cruel, but he insists that if he has to suffer, then I, the lighter half of his soul, should suffer as well.

I, too, continue to foster incorrigible tendencies. I'm still resentful of the humans I infrequently happen upon, jaundiced that they will one day be granted the final sleep to which all living things are entitled. Regrettably, I still execute mortals when I feel inclined. You are most lucky that you're not in my presence reading this; I fear what I might do if you were.

It turns out he knows more about me for which I give him credit. What I had perceived as mildew in my soul room was, just like he had said, a representation of my predisposed evilness. The black substance became prolific shortly after the instance when I had killed Yugi. Within a quick time, the darkness enveloped the pristine marble, extinguishing the last traces of decency in my heart. The matter has even seeped through my soul room's threshold and twisted its way around the door… similar to Yami's.

I have learned to accept the fact that Yami meant exactly what he shared with me that night in Domino thousands of years back when I had penned my final letter to Higeki and Mum: _"You will be my hikari for eternity."_ I've given up my numerous attempts at failed suicides, and the only visible proof of my desperation are the scars that are as notable on my flesh as legible words in books.

He has not allowed me to live, or die, in this perpetual hell that is my existence.

Yami is sitting in the corner now, laughing, heckling me that no one will ever read this. He's sorely wrong, the miserable tadger – I mean, you're looking at this, right?

Well, now you know whatever happened to Ryou Bakura, the boy who wanted nothing more than to be normal. I am tired… so tired. And I'm tired of his laughing.

I hate you, Yami.

Wait, he's saying something… hold on….

…

He says, "If you hate me, Hikari, then you also hate yourself."

How true that is. How true that is….

---

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http://www.hawaiianhulahips(dot)com/sitebuildercontent/sitebuilderpictures/anime472104.jpg

-

_auk er heh en heh aha en heh_

(Thou shalt exist for millions of millions of years, a period of millions of years.)

-The Papyrus of Ani; The Doctrine of Eternal Life in the XVIIIth Dynasty


End file.
